Monkey Meets Wolf
by LoveInChains
Summary: Just your typical story. Boy meets girl, they fall in love, and - boom - happily ever after. Only no. No it's not. Not even close. / Rewrite of A Grease Monkey's Tale
1. Chapter One: Run, Forest, Run!

**Monkey Meets Wolf**

**Chapter One: Run, Forest, Run!**

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_Hard to turn around when there's a devil on your heels. Or a big freaking werewolf._

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I was minding my own business, I promise you. Not bothering anyone. Just running along an old path through the woods as I did every other night. I'm not some "she was asking for it" tragic (moronic) heroine. I wasn't looking through my creepy great-grandmothers witchy stuff, I wasn't trying to talk to the dead through an Ouija board, I wasn't stupidly walking into an abandoned house with a serial killer on the loose, and I most certainly wasn't going to prom. I wasn't asking for trouble, I really wasn't.

And, of course, it found me. It was big and hulky and wheezy and smelly. Kind of like my uncle Drew. Then I was running from it for a good hour or so. Trouble. Not my uncle. Probably was a bit more than an hour, though. I didn't really have time to keep checking my watch. I just started running and didn't stop until the thing finally caught up to me. Or at least its teeth did.

I was sitting home alone before all this shit went down with my little beagle-terrier cross Kipper, this little yippy thing that my widowing husband decided to get when we moved to Beacon Hills. We were plopped on the couch, watching The Vampire Diaries, my guilty pleasure, shoveling strawberry ice cream into my mouth with a serving spoon while my pup chewed on his favorite bone in my lap.

Looking at my watch, it was getting around time to head out for my every-other-night-forget-the-dead-husband midnight run. I sat up, stretching my arms overhead and distinctly feeling my shirt lose its tension suddenly. I looked down to see that the last button on my flannel had popped off onto the coffee table. I picked the tiny little piece of plastic and stared at it.

"You suck." I insulted the incessant thing.

Not really my greatest work, but I didn't have the energy anymore. I used to be the sassiest girl for miles. I was throwin' shade like you couldn't believe. People would bow before me in the streets for I was the _queen_. Around that time though I mostly stayed home. I'd screw around with my truck, never could figure out what was making that rumbling sound, head to work, go for a run, maybe I'd attend a lacrosse game. Beacon Hills was known for their lacrosse above all else, and James used to play in high school so I had a bit of a soft spot for it.

Oh, James was my husband, by the way. He died about a year before this shit happened.

But run, yes. I was going out for a run. Silently I tried to will Kipper off of my lap, to no avail. He was blissfully ignorant to my presence most of the time no matter what sort of telepathic message I was trying to send him. So I finally just ripped the bone out of his mouth and tossed it across the room, effectively sending him after it. I laughed at the little idiot, standing and brushing off the dog hair from my lap.

Quickly I got changed into some sportier gear. Leggings, sports bra, sneakers, they were of some similar color and probably looked quite nice on me. I'm going to bore you with irrelevant details, I won't tell you how nice the fabric felt on my skin or whatever actual writer's do. The important fact is I was clothed and ready to go, picking up my iPhone from the table and holstering it against my arm. Kipper didn't even notice that I was leaving.

"Dumb dog." I muttered to myself as I refreshed his water and food, watching him gnaw on a bone that was about twice the size of his head. "You keep trying to conquer that bone little slugger, I'll be back."

Shouldering on my jacket I turned out most of the lights and I headed out the door, locking it behind me. I inhaled the cold autumn air and then quickly clutched at my sides, cursing a brisk wind that blew right through me in that exact moment. Quickly I fidgeted with my phone to get some music playing before my fingers decided to fall off. I settled for some Ellie Goulding and I took off running towards the path through the woods behind my house. My dumbest decision, quite possibly ever.

My run was liberating, as usual. Sweat cascading down my face, the burn in my calves, the smell of fresh pine needles, and a general feel of total inhibition, I lived for it. It really made me think back to high school when I ran cross-country in Rue de Fleur. I tried to get away from my nasty sister Amber as much as possible. So I did whatever school activity I could to keep me away from home. I worked at a diner, ran cross-country, sang in choir at various venues around California, and goofed around at my future husband's house with all of his half-brothers. And then eventually just with him in the back of his car.

I often thought about my high school days on my runs, made it easier to run past the old Hale house and not be entirely creeped out by it. The thing moaned. An old ruin of a mansion that burned down a few days after James and I moved to Beacon Hills. Killed an entire family, incinerated them. Not something I liked to think about. One thing on a list of many.

Up until about fifteen minutes into my trip through the woods, I had no idea anything was wrong on that oh-so-normal night. Everything was as I remembered it, remnants of teenagers sneaking around smoking pot, the carving "Derek + Paige 4E" in the same tree it had always been, the same eviscerated deer laying across the path – wait. That was new. That's how I knew something was up.

Between gagging at the sight of a deer being completely gutted on the ground in front of me and trying to figure out what sort of hunter would rip apart game so messily and thoroughly, I realized that there was probably a bear lurking around. Only something that big could leave those large marks. I turned around, wondering if I should head back home or try and find a ranger station.

I didn't get much of a choice when I found myself looking into the eyes of a monstrous beast not ten feet to my left.

I turned sharply, falling to the ground and quickly scrambling back onto my feet. The thing was huge, definitely a bear. Or Bigfoot. It certainly wasn't Bambi. I started running away from it as fast as I could, sprinting through fallen branches and leaves, ignoring the pain in my shins as they were being sliced open by dry brush and God knew what else.

The thing, Bambi, Sasquatch, Elvis, whatever, was on me in a heartbeat. It threw me to the ground before I could even get a head start. I felt a sudden and extreme pain in my arm. Ow. I looked to see the muzzle of it, its teeth sinking into my skin and threatening to snap off one of my only few good appendages left. I started screaming, desperately kicking at the cinderblock leeched onto me and trying to ignore the feeling of my flesh ripping.

Finally I landed one good kick on its – snout? The thing looked a lot like a wolf from that angle, but I really didn't care. Its grip slackened and with another good kick I was off running again, ducking and weaving, careful of my injured arm since it felt like it was going to fall off. Running at full speed got me closer to home then it took to get me out there. I practically ran into the back door, fumbling through my pockets for my keys while I tried not to pass out from the blood loss. Frantically I looked back, not seeing the thing I jammed the key in the deadbolt and turned it, falling into my empty house and kicking the door shut behind me.

Kipper was already barking like mad, probably sensing trouble long before I got there. The warrior was standing between me and the door defensively like a German Shepard. I sat up and practically ripped off my jacket, feeling pieces of fabric being pulled _out _of my arm as I chucked it across the room. That was a nasty bite. The diameter of the things teeth had to be at least two inches wide.

Quickly I made my way over to the sink and started running water through my gaping arm holes. There was blood everywhere. The smell was metallic and pungent and gross and my head was throbbing from the loss of vital red fluid. I wasn't sure whether or not I should disinfect it, because I was definitely going to the hospital, no questions about that. Truthfully I just wanted to stop looking at it so I sort of stumbled over to the fridge and pulled down the "big boo-boo" supplies.

I didn't wait for it to stop bleeding because I might've died before that happened. Having the box in my hand I fell onto my knees and did the best I could. That meaning I simply loaded on the gauze and I wrapped it up in tape. Leaning against the cabinets I pulled out my phone and called a friend that was well versed in such matters as people nearly dying.

"Sheriff?" I asked into the receiver when the call connected.

"Brooke?" He returned with another question. "This isn't really a good time, there's something out here-"

"Oh, I think I know what you're talking about. It just attacked me and now I'm sort of bleeding to death." I informed without an ounce of urgency in my tone. "I'm back at my house if you want someone to come and grab me and take me to the hospital."

He barked something at one of his lieutenants before returning his attention back to me. "Someone will be there soon, Brooke. Just hang in there."

"Thanks much Sheriff!" I exclaimed happily as I felt my consciousness slipping.

Not able to hold my hand up anymore it fell to the floor, my phone scattering across my cheap stick on tiles. I really did lose a lot of blood. It had pooled significantly where I fell onto the floor trying to get into the house, less so where I was sitting. Kipper was still trying to get out, barking non-stop out the window. I grabbed a towel and threw it at him. The barking was giving me a headache. Or the dying thing. It startled him only slightly enough to realize that the person that feeds him was lying painfully on the floor.

He trotted over to me, nosing at my injuries. I winced, but I didn't feel much. My whole arm had sort of gone numb. Probably a bad sign, didn't really care. Kipper was pawing at my poor attempts to bandage, causing me to realize I'd left a good portion of it uncovered. He started licking it.

"That isn't sanitary boy." I joked weakly, not bothering to stop him. I simply placed my hand on his head and scratched him behind the ears. I was alright, really. I mean, it was only the rending of my flesh. No biggie. Just a bite, right?

Ha. Ha ha. Ha ha ha ha ha ha. I'm funny.

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**Author's Note: Tada! Here we go. One chapter every two days. xoxo, Momma Love**


	2. Chapter Two: Hearing Things

**Monkey Meets Wolf**

**Chapter Two: Hearing Things**

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_Welp. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Let's hope the voices are nice._

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So turns out I wasn't in any risk of dying from that bite. I didn't even need a transfusion. I could've sworn that I'd lost at least a gallon of blood but I'm wrong more often then I'm right so I'm not surprised. The problem was that I was panicking from when I first saw the behemoth until I passed out from exhaustion on my kitchen floor. Caused me to see things that weren't really there. Not the bear, I saw that. But the amount of blood that I saw gushing out of me, definitely delirium settling in. I definitely saw the bear before it sunk its teeth in my juicy sausage-like arm.

The Sheriff was standing in front of me as I pulled on a shirt and my jacket, not the one that has an extra hole in it. But I'll keep that one around in case I grow another arm. I was still sitting on my little hospital cot, getting ready to be discharged while he'd been asking me questions about the dreaded _incident._

"You're sure that it was a bear that attacked you?" He asked me as he scribbled on his notepad.

I nodded, easing my other arm through my jacket without irritating the massive wound. "I don't really know if there's anything else around here that gets that big."

"Hmm…" He hummed, jotting down something or another before closing his notepad and putting it back in his pocket. "Thank you, Brooke. I'll have some follow up questions eventually. After we figure out what this is, exactly."

He looked tired, like he hadn't slept at all last night. And, well, he didn't.

"You wanna drop me off at the station?" I asked as I stood. "Coffee's on me."

He smiled, scratching the back of his head as he often did when he was overworked. "Sounds good. Though I might need something a bit stronger than the usual."

I chuckled, retrieving my phone from the little hospital bag they put it into when I arrived. "Double?"

"Triple." He admitted sheepishly. Causing me to laugh a bit louder than I meant to.

"C'mon, Sheriff." I beckoned him, still laughing and heading for the door. "If you're real quick about it I'll toss in a free donut."

He snorted as he followed me. "Cops don't eat donuts."

"_Sheeriiiff._" I elongated, emphasizing that he doesn't count and getting a small chuckle out of him. Didn't I say I was funny?

When he dropped me off (he'd gotten a call and had to leave) I could already here Pam cooing over me. I texted her that I was in the hospital for some cuts (half-truth) because if I didn't and she found out then she would've evicted me from the joint and insisted on taking care of me herself. She never had any kids of her own so I was the closest thing she had. She'd coddle me for the rest of my life.

She was James's step-mom. His real mom being a serial wife with some poor sap back in Rue de Fleur at the moment. When Maria, his real mom, went after Donny, his dad, he'd been getting on in years and probably thought himself the luckiest man in the world to nab a younger woman. Then five years later, she left. Already pregnant with some other guys kid. She's also a serial mom. Kind of nuts, Maria was just a mystery. I could never understand her and I still can't and I don't really want to!

"Brooke!" Pam shrieked, dropping the packs of cigarettes she'd been shelving when I walked through the door.

I smiled at her as she barreled towards me, her artificial copper curls bouncing energetically. She wrapped her arms around me in a vice, sort of choking me a bit more than a lot. But I sucked it up and hugged her back. She always smelled like a mix of cream soda, her guilty pleasure, and cigarettes, her guiltier pleasure. And, it's never bothered me. Actually, it comforted me. I've always been weird. I prefer the smell of a finely tuned car over a bouquet of roses. Don't judge me.

Pam's nuzzling deep into my chest, probably smudging her make-up all over my work tee. "I'm so glad to see you're okay!"

I laughed, patting my pseudo-mom on the back. "It was just a couple of scratches!"

She lifted her head sharply and narrowed her brown eyes at me. Gingerly she probed both my arms, I hoped she hadn't seen me wince – she had. She pulled up my sleeve and regarded the thick bandages wrapped around my useless limb. She gawked up at me, turning my arm over several times before simply holding my hand and squeezed.

"What happened to you!" She cried, her eyes tearing up as they always did when I was involved.

My face turned sad, worrisome, I couldn't help it. Seeing her distraught always turned me into a puddle of goo. "Some big thing thought I looked like a nice slab of salmon –"

"A _bear!_" She yelled, slapping me upside the head without a second's notice. "You told me you got scratched!"

I scratched my chin, feeling a bit guilty, looking down at the floor. "I did – when the bear had my arm in his mouth."

She slapped me again. "Brooklyn Sophia! That is _not_ a simple scratch! You were _bitten_ by a bloodthirsty animal!"

I nodded solemnly, not wanting to make any excuses other then I didn't want her to worry. And here she was. Worrying. I'm not particularly good and getting things to go according to plan. Seeing me clearly repenting for omitting the truth, Pam shook her head and hugged me again, albeit this time she didn't try to cave in my lungs.

"What am I going to do with you?" She asked quietly, breaking from the embrace, cradling the side of my face in her aged hand and smiling affectionately.

"Put me to work?" I suggested a bit jokingly, shrugging my shoulders a little.

I swear she was going to slap me again. "For just a little scratch I would've just given you your smock and been done with it. But you're injured! Go home!"

I tried to level her a knowing look to the best of my inept abilities. "You know I choose the station or the garage over home any day. And do you really want me to go over and work on a transmission with this arm?"

Her face turned a bit sad but she quickly plastered a smile onto that frown. "Fine. You can stay. Just don't distract anyone, y'hear?"

"Oh c'mon, Pam." I exasperated, giving her a dry smile. "I'll be a little angel I promise."

I spent my whole morning there, trying to help out and getting shoved into the back whenever I got caught. When I picked up a broom Pam immediately snatched it from me and smacked me on the butt. Rude. But as it was nearing game time at the school, half the staff was already filing out to head to the high school. It was the first lacrosse game of the season and I'd actually planned on attending. Still, I offered to stay behind to close up and wait for the next shift. For the record, we only close during the day for lacrosse.

I was halfway to locking the doors, screw waiting for the next shift, when I saw a car pull up to the pumps. A nice sleek Camaro. I don't like newer cars because they're just a sheet of plastic shaped like a car nowadays, but that car was most definitely sexy. I came back around to the cash register and waited for the last customer of the afternoon to grace me with their presence.

The door dinged and I looked up – I actually smelled him before I saw him. This overwhelming smell of cinnamon and a hint of – campfire? That was an odd combination and I wasn't really going to ask the man about his shampooing habits so I shooed the thoughts.

"Can I help you?" I asked in my usual chipper cashier voice.

He didn't really respond, he just unfolded a couple of twenties and placed them down in front of me. "Pump number 3."

This wasn't uncommon. Regulars would just come in, grab a paper, and you'd automatically ring up their usual order. But I'd never met this guy before. He was some tall, dark, and handsome that strolled into the joint with a particularly foul expression on his face. Maybe that was just his face.

I quickly activated the pump requested and gave him a smile I'm sure he didn't give a flying fuck about. "You're all set!"

More a second I could've sworn he was leering at me, but by the time the thought registered he was already heading back out the door. I shrugged, chalking it up to absolutely nothing. Still I waited for him to finish and then for him to leave. He lingered for a bit, but eventually sped off down the road at a speed that would surely solicit attention from a trooper or two. I didn't care. Not my problem.

So I finally was able to lock up, lights out, goodnight folks. I hung up our usual "It's Lacrosse Day, back in a bit!" sign up at the door, letting people know that we're a proud supporter of Beacon Hills High School and that's exactly where we all were. Kept the pumps on so people with credit cards could do their thing, but otherwise, Oak Street Gas was closed.

The game wasn't too far from the station, so I walked. People were still coming in by the time I got there, so I assumed it hadn't even started yet. I paid for my ticket and I almost immediately ran into a certain nurse I hadn't seen since that very morning. Madam Melissa McCall, the resident super mom.

"Brooke!" She exclaimed when she saw me, giving me a tight hug. "How's the arm?"

I smiled as we parted, pulling my wounded appendage into view. "It's still attached, at least."

She rolled her eyes, possibly finding my joke less than humorous. But she was smiling so I knew that it was. "Those are some pretty deep puncture wounds, you better keep those clean if you don't want to deal with probably _the _nastiest infection you've ever had."

I barked out a laugh, good old Melissa always making sure I don't die of a festering wound. "Is Scott playing tonight?"

Shrugging, she really didn't have much of a clue. "He said that he was doing better in practice but beyond that, I don't really know. He could be starting and he wouldn't tell me. He's pretty forgetful."

"I know the kid." I joked a bit, bringing my hand to my mouth. "Think we should go find a seat before we're sandwich between the dads, or worse, the girlfriends?"

Her eyes widened in realization and nodded vigorously. "Oh yeah, let's get out there."

We took the stands, small as they were, and almost immediately, people starting shifting away from us. While we had been cautious to stay away from the screaming sweaty dads, they had nothing on us. I was one of those "cuss-out-the-ref-and-his-mother" type. And Melissa? She was just plain loud. That's why we attended these games together. Two peas in a pod.

She went to go get us snacks and by the time she came back, I could hear her back pocket beeping. Pager.

"Really?" I asked in utter disbelief. "Can't people nearly slice off their fingers when there's _not_ a lacrosse game going on?"

She nodded, sharing my feelings on the matter. "I know, right? But I've got to go in. Give me a play by play if you can!"

She motioned to her phone after setting down all of the food she'd gotten for both of us and taking off. I sighed, missing her already. I would've gone to find Pam or some guys from the shop (their boys played lacrosse) but I really didn't feel like it. I was already all settled in and the game was about to start.

The whistle sounded and everything kicked into action. I watched closely, not wanting to miss a thing. Even though it was just a scrimmage, pretty much everyone in Beacon Hills was there. This was the game that would decide who would be on first line for the season. The defining moment. You could predict how their season would go after this one game.

I really do sound like a lacrosse nut don't I. Guilty.

Besides, this was a great game. It was absolutely stellar. Why? Because as it was nearing the end, Scott McCall, a kid I loved to little pieces, stole the show. He was rolling off people's backs, flipping over them, side-stepping and weaving through the defense like a pro. When he reeled back his stick to lob that ball into the goal, I was already on my feet.

"_Get it, Scott!_" I yelled without realizing I had.

He made the goal and I couldn't've been more proud of the kid. He took off his headgear for a minute, looking up at me and waving with it. I waved back, blowing a couple of kisses to emphasis just how well he did out there. He blushed and turned his head to the side, flipping his hair out of his eyes and turning to a couple of girls seated on the other side of the stands.

By the time I sat back down I barely registered that they'd been looking at me while Scott waved. One of them was probably his girlfriend, and the other the protective best friend ready to cut a bitch.

"_Who is that?_"

I looked up sharply, feeling like someone was talking directly into my ear. I turned around to see a little kid sucking on a lollipop, minding his own business. I dropped my gaze, trying to figure out what that was beyond a possible grief-induced delirium. _Oh great, Brooke. You've finally lost it._

"_That's Brooke Summers._" A different voice said, both female, both speaking far too loud for me to hear them from wherever they were. "_She's this weird girl who lives on the outskirts of town, runs around the woods at night. People call her 'grease monkey' because she gets her kicks fixing cars, don't know why. And her husband died in a car accident last year, or killed himself or whatever. I don't really pay attention._"

"_Husband? How old is she?_"

"_Don't know, don't care. C'mon, watch the game! Jackson's got the ball!_"

I looked around to see if anyone else was registering these phantom voices I was hearing. Nope. Didn't seem like it. But the voices were way too lucid and not Excoristy for them to be figments of my imaginations or a hallucination. At least, that was my theory. I could just be having an extremely sane psychotic break. With my luck, probably the latter.

What that one girl said, voice in my head or not, brought my day down to a whole other level. There were a lot of speculations surrounding James's accident. The most prominent theory floating around town being that he'd intentionally driven head first into a tree. But I knew that wasn't true. I just – okay, maybe I didn't _know _know. He could've been bottling up a lot of crap I never even knew about, but it just wasn't James.

I'd be sticking to the accident story. If doing nothing but easing my turbulent grieving mind.

By the time the game was finished, first line was called and Scott McCall was one of the names shouted to the crowd. I wasn't much in the mood for cheering anymore, but I clapped at least. Then I took out my phone and called Melissa's cell. She picked it up on the first ring.

"Brooke?" She asked excitedly. "Is it good news? Bad news? If it's bad news just lie to me."

I barked out a laugh. "Aren't you supposed to have your phone off in the hospital?"

"Don't spout protocol to me, young lady." She chastised, no bite in her voice at all. "And yes, I am. But just tell me – wait. Are you avoiding the subject because he didn't –"

"Melissa, calm yourself." I tried to ease her poorly, still chuckling. "He made first line."

The sound of an overly contained surprise came through the receiver and I knew that she was beside herself with excitement. Eventually she cleared her throat and returned to a semi-neutral state.

"Do me a favor and congratulate him for me?" She asked, a bit forlorn now. "I probably won't be getting home until he's left for the party."

"Can do, hon." I agreed as I nodded my accordance. Don't know why, she couldn't see me. "I'll be by tomorrow to get the painkillers for this nasty bite."

"Alright, see you then!"

"See ya."

We hung up and I immediately started searching for Scott and his fluffy black head. Didn't take long to locate any member of the lacrosse team. Either they were being led away, utterly devastated that they didn't make first line, or getting rushed by their friends and family. Scott? Couldn't find him with a Scott-seeking missile. I couldn't find Stiles either, his goofy best friend. And you could find that boy all the way from Pluto.

A couple years ago, James offered to help coach Finstock out with training the middle schoolers that were interested in joining the lacrosse team. That's how I met those two goofballs. I was in charge of their stamina/endurance training and I worked them _hard._ And they didn't resent me for it. Nowadays they pop into the gas station whenever something substantial happened in their lives. When both of them got their licenses, when Stiles got his own car, when Stiles smashed out his light and wanted me to take care of it, I was like their unofficial big sister/enabler.

I was still searching through the crowd when someone tapped my shoulder, it was Scott. I smiled and gave the lovable puppy a big hug.

"You did great out there!" I laughed, ruffling his hair.

He chuckled as we broke away, shaking out his locks and running his fingers through his bangs. "Thanks for coming, have you seen Stiles?"

"Stiles?" I asked. "No, wasn't he here?"

"Yeah, but he probably went to the party already." He directed towards his feet. "Are you going?"

I sort of quirked a brow at him because what he said was so absolutely ridiculous. "You do realize that this is a _high school _party, right? Me even being there would probably break some laws, somewhere."

"Well it's just – I have this date and –"

I thumped him sporadically. "Yeah, I saw her cheering you on in the game. You could've told me about her earlier!"

"I'm telling you about her now, aren't I!" He protested, though he was chuckling so that wasn't much of a protest. "Besides, there might not be much to tell, this is our first date."

I rolled my eyes at him. "No excuse, but why do you want me at the party?"

"So I don't have to ride up to Allison's on my bike…" He admitted sheepishly, causing me to burst out in laughter.

"Your mom won't lend you the car?" I asked, still laughing. Always laughing. Ugh, that kid killed me.

"Maybe, maybe not." He said, shaking out his hair again. "Stiles was gonna take me if she didn't but I don't really know if he's going to –"

His phone rang.

"It's Stiles." He informed me, turning away with his phone to his ear, accepting the call and chatting with his friend for a few minutes before hanging up. "He wants me to swing by his place, you should still go to the party!"

Before he ran off, he scribbled the address onto my hand. I looked at it and sighed. Deciding that I was going to go just so I could keep an eye on my little brother, I shook my head and turned towards the station. I stopped suddenly and swore under my breath.

"Fuck. I didn't congratulate him for his mom."

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**Author's Note: Well, I decided to upload this already. I'm eager, what can I say. I'm up to Chapter 10 already with the rewrite. And steadily progressing. Read and review! xoxo, Momma Love**

**P.S. Yes! She's still Brooke-Lynn Sophia Winston Summers! Affectionately referred to as Brooklyn Sophia when Pam's mad at her.**


	3. Chapter Three: Party-Pooper

**Monkey Meets Wolf**

**Chapter Three: A Party-Pooper Named Amber**

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_What can I say. She sucks._

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"You got invited to a party?" Pam asked when I told her.

I nodded, leafing through a magazine. "Well, sort of. The person hosting the party didn't offer me the invitation, it was Scott."

"I'm sure you could go if you wanted." She continued, clearly trying to get me to go.

"Yeah, that's not weird at all." I scoffed. "22 years old and attending a high school party. Totally normal."

"C'mon girl! You're too young to be acting like a middle-aged housewife!" She insisted, smacking my arm with a smile. "Go meet a cute senior and get jiggy with it!"

I almost choked on my own spit. "Pam, kids don't get "jiggy" anymore."

"Then do the dirty! The naked tango, whatever you wanna call it!"

"Oh, my God." I exasperated, practically smacking the cash register with my forehead. "Pam, I don't feel like carding everyone there in case I – "

I shut up right then and there because the bell above the door rang and a familiar face made a second appearance that day.

I put away the Cosmo and smiled up at him. "Evening, Camaro. What can I get for you?"

He didn't look amused by my quip, I didn't care. "Coffee."

Saluting him, I dealt out another sarcastic remark. "One word commands, vague and irritating. Coming right up."

"Brooke!" Pam hissed at me, pinching my arm as I moved to pour the man his cup of Joe.

Personally, I thought she was hissing at me for being rude, little did I realize that a very unwelcome guest had decided to grace my presence. When I turned back around I saw her leaning against the counter, her boobjob practically screaming at you while her smile tried to kill you with kindness.

"Amber-Lynn." I greeted with my sugar sweet smile.

"Grease monkey." She returned, her smile just as nauseating as mine. "It's been so long, how are you?"

"Positively splendid." I continued in a tone that hopefully made it quite clear that I hated her guts. "But if you haven't noticed, I'm with a customer."

Amber looked to her left and was about to lift her nose when she actually bit her lip. "Oh my. If I wasn't getting married in a few weeks I would be all over you."

"What?" I asked, my finger lingering on the coffee dispenser until some spilled over onto my hand. _Ouch_. "You're getting married?"

"Oh yeah." She smiled. "If you would do _any_ effort to keep in contact with your beloved sisters, you'd know this. The wedding's not too far away. I'm sure if you wanted I could maybe squeeze you into a bridesmaids dress."

My smile wasn't getting any friendlier. I promise you that. "You mean that I'm _not _the maid of honor? Amber, I'm hurt!"

"Please." She retorted, her tone finally slipping, meaning she was finally getting to her point. "Why would I want you at my wedding? You're a curse to marriage. Your husband killed himself to get away from you!"

"Amber!" Pam shouted, finally intervening. "That's enough!"

She scoffed, the little blonde demon. "What? Getting your old lady guns to come to your rescue? James was such a good guy. He was my boyfriend first. He would've been happy with me, and instead you pretty much killed him! You should be ashamed of yourself!"

"And you should get a refund on those fake boobs." I quipped, glaring at her but my smile was still strong. "They look atrocious."

Amber rolled her eyes. "You're pathetic. Come to my wedding or don't. Do, and make sure you leave your special killing gift in that shitty old truck of yours."

With that, she left. Leaving me to finally take care of the customer. I got him his coffee, thanked him for dealing with that, charged him for only a medium when I got him a large, and sent him on his way. He left, turning and giving me a look of confusion before pushing open the door and leaving. I barely paid any attention. I just pressed my palms into my eyes and tried not to start crying. God I hated that bitch. And she was my big sister.

If you're keeping track, you might've noticed that Amber and I had similar names. Brooke-Lynn and Amber-Lynn. That wasn't an accident. My mom was a bit nuts, for reasons our dad never was able to tell us. Maybe he didn't want to. But my mom attached to some girl named Lynn when she was younger, and when Lynn died, she projected that need of her onto her kids. That much we knew. First, it was Lynn. My eldest sister and the least awful of the three. Eleanor-Lynn was next, Elli. Then of course there's Amber-Lynn, and then me. I simply went by Brooklyn to make it less confusing. Luckily my dad was able to convince my nut of a mom to not name us _all _Lynn.

She died, giving birth to me. Mom. So I never got to experience the crazy. None of us did. Four years, four kids, and then she kicked the bucket. I don't know why my dad never put her in therapy. He should've realized that her desperate need to cling onto this Lynn character was the result of something deep seeded and traumatic. I never bothered to ask him either. I knew he sort of hated me because I'm the reason why there _is _no Janette Winston anymore. Besides, he still loved her more than anything.

Pam tried to comfort me as tears sprung from my long since dry eyes. It'd been a while since I cried over my late husband, but Amber always seemed to have this innate talent for making me sob like a small child. It was her favorite pastime, I assure you. I was always the odd one out amongst my sisters. They all dreamed of Prince Charming sweeping them off their feet, I would've just been happy if he didn't step on my toes trying to get to someone else. Debutantes and pageant queens, which just happens to perfectly describe my sisters in a nutshell. While I found solace in running and fixing up old cars. Just call me a freak and hand me over to the circus.

"Baby girl," Pam cooed, rubbing my back soothingly, "I don't know why she does this to you."

I wiped my excess snot onto my sleeve. "Because 'tormenting Brooke' is the Winston sister's favorite pastime. Haven't you learned that yet?"

"You know the others aren't quite as –"

"Positively charming?" I said as sarcastically as I could, running a hand through my hair.

Pam sighed, reaching for her pocket like she needed a cigarette. "Positively bitchy is more like."

"That too." I agreed with a bit of a laugh. "Y'know, I think I'm going to go to that party after all."

Seeing me change the subject, I could tell she was glad for it. "That's great! What're you going to wear?"

I scratched my chin, contemplating. "Nothing. I'm going as Baby New Year."

"Brooke!" She laughed, slapping me on the arm and grabbing her keys. "C'mon, I'll drive you home so you can take your truck. Can't have your mom dropping you off at the shindig of the century."

The woman was making me blush out of pure embarrassment. Something she was quite good at. "Pam, for the love of God, I will give you my next paycheck if you just shut up."


	4. Chapter Four: Roofies

**Monkey Meets Wolf**

**Chapter Four: Roofies for Her, Fists for You**

* * *

_Seriously. This is high school. I'm scared for when these assholes go off to college._

* * *

Dear God, looking back I really wish that I hadn't gone to that stupid party. I didn't know anyone there, I wasn't really invited by anyone of high school importance (sorry, Scott, you were kind of lame back then), and, most importantly, I'd been out of high school for six years? Six going on seven years. Yeah. I did not belong at a high school party.

But there I was, clad in an entirely intact flannel button up, jeans, and cute little booties. I was practically swarmed by teenagers making out left and right. Saw a guy try and slip something into a girl's drink, so I accidentally jabbed him in the throat. Whoops, my elbow slipped.

I talked with the few people there that I knew, Danny, the lacrosse team's goalie, Scott and Stiles, obviously. Stiles was mostly looking for Scott the whole night, asking if he was acting strange. It was really Stiles that was worrying me, but eventually I managed to meet Allison, Scott's date.

"Brooke!" He yelled over the music as he waved me over. "This is Allison!"

He gestured to the brunette standing next to him, I waved. "It's nice to meet you!"

"I heard you cheering at the game!" She returned, all of us yelling. Didn't really have another option.

"Sorry about that!" I laughed, yell-laughed. "I get excited!"

"What!" Allison tried to ask me over the ever deafening thrum of the bass.

Scott motioned towards the back door. "Let's head outside!"

_Couldn't've suggested that _before _you introduced me to your girlfriend?_

"Much better!" I exclaimed, much louder than I intended due to the ringing in my ears.

Allison laughed quietly into her sleeve. "Totally. I'm curious, how do you know Scott?"

"It's not a real interesting story." Scott tried to intercede, knowing that the topic would take us down dead-husband lane.

I patted the kid on the back. "True, but it's easy enough to answer. My husband used to help out the lacrosse team, like an assistant coach. I used to run cross-country and track at my high school so I offered to help in terms of their endurance and such."

"You don't anymore?" She asked innocently enough, Scott gave me a worried look but I ignored it.

"No, sadly. Ever since my husband died I just haven't had the heart for it." I admitted, which was true. I lacked the energy to do most anything in those days. That wouldn't last much longer though.

Allison looked entirely shocked. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. Lydia told me – I shouldn't've –"

"It's okay hon." I tried to reassure her with a smile. "It's already been a year. I have no problem talking about him."

She didn't look entirely convinced, and neither did Scott, but she returned my smile with a far shakier one. "Then I'm glad that Scott's been in good hands at least."

"And _I'm _glad that he's in such good hands now." I said cryptically, giving the boy a playful smirk. "Now you guys enjoy the party, I'm going to go find the little ladies' room."

Total lie, but I wanted them to have their alone time together. Scott deserved a cute girl in his life and he couldn't have big sister Brooke getting in the way of that. As soon as I stepped inside, I immediately regretted it. My senses were bombarded by the shitty music and the lingering smell of booze soaking into the carpet and the unique scent of burning cannabis. Then someone suddenly grabbed my arm and pulled me into another room.

"What the –"

"Brooke, have you seen Scott?"

It was Stiles. _Again_. Asking me the same question. _Again_.

"Yes, Stiles. Since the last time I spoke with you, not five minutes ago, I've seen Scott." I admitted. Best not to lie to the kid. Especially when he's doped up on Adderall.

"Has he seemed – angry?" He asked, in a voice very similar to his father's. I have expected him to pull out a notepad and start writing notes – if I haven't mentioned, Stiles is Sheriff Stilinski's son.

I shook my head, fidgeting with my cuffs. "No, Stiles. He hasn't."

"Unnaturally bloodthirsty?" He continued to press. I had to admit, he was starting to grate on my nerves.

I rolled my eyes. "What does "naturally bloodthirsty" even look like?"

That stopped him for a minute, got him thinking again. "I don't really know. But if you see him doing anything out of the ordinary, you'll let me know. Right?"

I groaned loudly, rubbing my hand across his fuzzy scalp. "Yeah, yeah. What're big sisters for?"

"Thanks Brooke!" He exclaimed, running off to wherever little hedgehogs named Stiles Stilinski ran off to.

So I rejoined the party, again. Talked with some kids I knew from around town. Whether they were kids of guys at the shop, they played lacrosse, actually worked at the shop, I was able to carry a conversation for the next hour or so.

But before I knew it, something seemed off. The music was getting louder. To a point where there was this incessant ringing in my ear and my temples were pulsating. I tried to cover my ears, that didn't work. I tried to go outside, that didn't work either. By the time someone started tapping me on the shoulder, my head felt like it was going to explode.

"Brooke!" They shouted over the music – but there was no music. They were just plain shouting. "Have you seen Scott –"

"No, Stiles!" I shouted right back at him. "I have not seen your goddamn little crush in the past five seconds! Go find him yourself!"

He seemed startled, I didn't care. "That's just it! I can't find him –"

"That is _your_ problem, buddy!" I retorted, dry as a bone, leaving him behind as I ventured out closer to the woods. That was the only place that could possibly grant me peace.

And yet, it didn't. The pulsating in my skull had gotten worse. To a point where I thought that someone was beating on my cranium with a sledgehammer. I made my way to a tree and leaned against it, sliding down to the ground with my hands fisting at my hair. There was this tightness growing underneath every inch of me. My skin felt like it was trying to crack, to let something out.

On top of that, my nails felt like they were being pulled out of their beds. Some unnatural force was trying to rip every bit of me open. My joints started screaming, I don't know why. Like they needed to be cracked but I knew that wasn't the case. The pain was too excruciating.

_My head feels like its splitting open!_

And that was the truth. Eventually, even my eyes started to hurt. To a point where they were actually watering. I couldn't see two inches in front of my face my vision was so blurred by the tears. I pressed my palms into my sockets, desperately trying to rid whatever was bothering eyes post haste! I honestly didn't know what to do. As each second passed my condition got worse and worse. My teeth were aching, my _teeth_. I brush them twice a day, I assure you. They shouldn't've been hurting like that.

"_Shit_."

I looked up, or tried to. The voice was a few feet in front of me, not that I could see, but I _sensed _him. A presence grew closer, kneeling down in front of me. They lifted my chin, pried open my jaw and examined my mouth? _Okay, if someone puts a dick in my mouth I am biting it off._

"What's your name?"

I couldn't even respond, I shook them off. Desperately swinging a pair of arms that'd turned to lead while I sat there.

"Shit." He swore, again. "_Shit!_ How many more does he plan on biting!"

_Biting?_ This guy wasn't making any sense to me. I was about to open my mouth and try to question him, when he smacked me clear across the face. With his _fist!_ I don't know how that worked, but my vision suddenly cleared up. Like a cloud was dissipating. I blinked twice, and there was no one there. That was more than a bit unnerving.

_Oh great. The voices have friends._

Standing, I shook my head of whatever I thought was happening just a few minutes ago. It was nothing, nothing at all. Just a trick of my imagination. Nothing more. And even though I said that to myself, as I walked towards my car, I swore I could feel someone watching me. And their gaze did not have good intentions.

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**Author's Note: I'm definitely only going to be posting once every other day now. Chapter Ten is giving me some issues. Has been for days. I love reviews, I'll have you know! xoxo, Momma Love**


	5. Chapter Five: Whoa Nelly

**Monkey Meets Wolf**

**Chapter Five: Whoa, Nelly**

* * *

_Jesus Christ that was hot. Also mildy terrifying._

* * *

After my mild freak out at that party, things returned to a relative normalcy before long. Relative being the operative word. The bite on my arm hadn't bothered me for a few days, which was freaking fantastic. But for whatever reason I had woken up buck ass nude in the middle of the woods more than once. I mean, that was only supposed to be a bi-annual thing. At most. C'mon, Brooke, head in the game.

Apart from that, apparently there was a murderer on the loose, well, not loose. He was caught, according to Pam. Also freaking fantastic. A body was found in the woods a few days prior to the game and my run-in with a bear. And not _just _a body, _half _a body. Honestly, this town was getting weird. Well, weirder than an entire family being burned alive in the old Hale house. That happened years ago so maybe the weird quota was catching up with the town.

And to top all of this weirdness off with a silver bow - heh - Kipper. He was acting a bit neurotic. And when I say "a bit neurotic", I mean going completely nuts. I came home after the party and that's when it snowballed. He started barking at me incessantly, circling me, nipping at my ankles, he only ever got like that around other terriers. So I picked him up, fed him a treat, and all was well.

But, like I said, snowballed.

Each day he progressively got more aggressive to a point where he actually sunk his teeth into my hand when I went to feed him. And then it only got worse. I came home from work one day and he jumped out of nowhere and latched his little canines onto my good arm and wouldn't let go. He went to the vets not two seconds later. That was the last straw. He might've been my pseudo-baby, but I would not take that abuse lying down.

Other than that, a lacrosse game came and went, Scott kicking all of the ass he possibly could, and an assumed murderer was released from prison, making the brief safety everyone felt kinda pointless. I actually managed to overhear the details at the game. Cops sure do love to talk. Especially when it's Sheriff Stilinski and Melissa McCall at the end of it. And thanks to my newly acquired Daredevil senses, that's what I was calling it, it made eavesdropping the easiest thing in the word.

_"He's innocent. We had to let him go."_

_"Are you sure?"_

_"Yeah, whoever – whatever killed Laura Hale, it was definitely an animal. There were animal hairs all over the body."_

_"What animal has enough strength to cut a girl completely in half?"_

_"We have no idea. The separation could've been done post mortem. But the hairs on the body definitely belonged to the canine family."_

_"Didn't Brooke say she was attacked by a bear? Is it the same thing?"_

_"Who knows. Nothing makes sense in this town anymore."_

_"So – what then? A rabid dog?"_

_"Or a rabid wolf."_

_"Sheriff, there haven't been any wolves spotted in California for decades."_

_"I know, I know. Stiles gave me the rundown on that. I don't know where he finds this stuff - but we can't afford to rule anything out. Not until we know more."_

I was probably located half a field away from them during that conversation, and yet I heard every word, clear as day. Two things stuck out to me, that an animal killed a girl, and that the girl was Laura Hale. One of the only survivors of the Hale House fire. She and her brother skipped town afterwards, which totally made sense. But why would she come back? I met her once, before it all went fuck up. I actually arrived in Beacon Hills with James a few days before the fire. Lucky me.

But in all that mess, Laura Hale and murderers and what not, I felt like I was being watched. All the time, pretty much. When I was at the shop, I almost wrenched my finger off because I could've sworn there was someone behind me. The feeling – it was positively maddening. You know the feeling, I'm sure. Like something crawling across your shoulders, trying to capture attention, but quickly darting down your back before you get a chance to see it.

It was worse at the lacrosse game. Exponentially worse. And I think I caught a glimpse of the person watching me too. He looked all dark and mysterious, darting out of view before I could get a good look at him. Each time I thought I sensed him, a scent seemed to be paired along with it. Another new talent of mine, I had super smell.

The scent, it was leather, and musk. A slight burn of a nice old whiskey, an underlying scent of canine. Not dog, but – also dog? I couldn't explain it. The smell – it enveloped me. Made me feel – alive? There really were no words for it. But, the scent would quickly leave the premise, causing a cloud that'd been mystically cast over me to evaporate in an instant.

So I left the school that night extremely pumped after watching Scott's game, trying to ignore the creepy stalker I'd been sensing. Stopped by the vet, picked up a little pup that'd received a clean bill of health, and charged straight for home. I was tired. Exhausted. I was in desperate need of blissful slumber.

And of course, that's the worst night's sleep I've ever had. Ever. Hands down. Tossing, turning, putting clothes on, taking clothes off, kicking blankets off, tugging them back, flipping pillows over, it was awful. Nothing I did helped. Eventually I just, gave up. And, guess what. I still didn't fall asleep. I sat up in bed and I tossed my pillow across the room, knocking a picture frame off my dresser. I ran a hand through my hair and almost missed something crucial in my environment.

Someone was standing at the door to my room.

I don't know how I didn't notice them, didn't hear them even with my super senses. Their eyes were the only discernable quality given the distance between us. They were glowing blue, an unnatural hue. I was absolutely terrified. I tried to scream, I couldn't. No sound would come out. I desperately pressed my back against my bedframe, trying to get away from them. I'd seen enough Criminal Minds to know where this was going. I'd be raped, and killed. Not necessarily in that order. Well, it'd make for good TV.

For whatever reason, I grabbed at the thin sheet covering me, pulling it up to my chin to do – I don't know. Provide a false sense of security? I was wearing nothing but a tank and panties. I was ripe for the picking.

He approached the side of the bed slowly, reaching down and yanking the blanket clean off of me. Cold rushed me and I tried to scream again, still nothing. He seemed to find my will to resist him to be absolutely entertaining. His lips curled up into a sadistic grin, climbing on top of me and reaching a clawed hand up to my face. For whatever reason, all I could see were his eyes, malicious and dangerous. Those claws, threatening to rip the flesh off my skull. And his lips, revealing a mean set of fangs, and getting way too close to my mouth for my tastes.

He – he kissed me. And – it was – I can't describe it. It was like nothing I ever felt. It was hot, passionate, needy, I didn't give two shits anymore that I had no clue who this guy was. All I wanted was more of his mouth. His lips worked over mine like it was his God given job. He knew just where to lick, nip, suck, it was maddening. He removed himself from my mouth to plant kiss after kiss down my jawline, my throat, sucking on my pulse until I couldn't help myself – I moaned. He then returned to my lips once he deemed my reaction satisfactory.

Once he was back to my mouth, he started probing it with his tongue. _Sweet baby Jesus, I'm supposed to be resisting this_. Yeah, I gave up on that. I wrapped my arms around his neck and savored him thoroughly, my tongue joining his, sliding over each other, entwining, causing something primal to pulse through me. Something so wonderfully delicious and animalistic, I didn't know a feeling like it existed.

I winced, he'd grabbed hold of my injured arm tightly by the wrist. He broke away, grinning. Exhaling a warm breath into my face. A strong scent of – musk. I looked up sharply at him, desperately trying to figure out who he was. This was the man that was following me, I knew it. I struggled, he didn't care. He unwrapped the ace bandage around my arm, revealing a completely healed wound. My eyes travelled back to his face, suddenly unmasked by the shadow.

It was the guy – Camaro. Always came in for 60 bucks worth of gas, maybe a coffee, maybe a newspaper, just some random guy I didn't know. Suddenly, he ran his tongue up my arm, his blue eyes watching me stare at him in complete astonishment. He opened his mouth, fitting my wrist perfectly between his teeth. I tried to shove him away, but he was too strong for me. He was just centimeters away from scarring my flesh, just moments from ripping open my arm all over again when I finally –

Woke up.

I sat up like a goddamn rocket. I looked to the doorway, no one, I looked in the bathroom, no one, I looked under my bed – you get the gist. Looked to me like the whole ordeal was just a really vivid wet dream. And women are taught in school that we don't _have _sex dreams. No one told _my _body that, apparently.

But that man, whoever he was – that _scent_. It wasn't a coincidence. That much I knew for sure. It wasn't like I could go and question him without any solid proof. How crazy would "I dreamed about you sucking my face and biting me you _must _be the guy who's stalking me" sound? Not that much crazier than a rabid wolf, or a rabid bear. Or whatever the town thought was killing people and ripping them in half for shits and giggles.

Deciding it would be best to put all that crap behind me, I plugged in my music, put on some clothes, and went out for a run. Stayed on the main road, of course. Didn't want to see the second act of "Brooke getting bit by weird shit" because I decided to venture into the woods. Wasn't making that mistake twice.

* * *

**Author's Note: I keep saying every other day, but here I am again. Chapter 10 finally got finished, longest chapter so far, and I'm back on track. Onto Chapter 12, actually. Perhaps this "chapter a day" thing will actually work out! xoxo, Momma Love**


	6. Chapter Six: Delirium

**Monkey Meets Wolf**

**Chapter Six: Delirium**

* * *

_We all know I was already delirious, now it's just getting worse._

* * *

_ "Hey, beautiful."_

_I turned around to see the same gentle smile I'd woken up to for the past six years. Shaggy brown hair, just as shaggy as it had always been. Brown eyes that only grew kinder by the day, laughing at my stupid jokes like they always did. And that damn smile of his that always made me melt, like no time had passed at all. God, I felt like I was 15 all over again. Telling him I loved him underneath the old Pont de Lune Bridge and dreaming about our lives together._

_Without thinking, I ran at him, throwing my arms around his neck. I cried, seeing him again. I buried my face in his shoulder and cried like a little baby. Cried like I did on our wedding day, the day I got the call, the funeral, I was a mess. Gently he brushed his hands through my hair, like he always used to do. Calming his hysterical wife like he always promised he would. He kissed the corner of my eyes, my cheeks, my lips, comforting me as best he could._

_I separated from him, desperately rubbing at my eyes and willing the damned tears away. "Ugh. I'm sorry I'm so gross."_

"_It's part of your charm." He joked, or at least I hoped he did._

_Playfully, I slapped his chest. "That's not what you're supposed to say, stupid."_

_He laughed, kissing me quickly, turning, and walking away. We were next to a school bus. It reminded me so much of our youth. Hiding in the back and making out before grumpy old Mr. Yates caught us. I laced our fingers and ran ahead, pulling him towards the door. He was probably feeling the same sort of nostalgia I was because he was just smiling like a simple fool._

_I pulled the doors open and tempted him with a crook of the finger. He chuckled, watching me disappear into the depths of yellow paint and polyester. Soon, of course, he followed. I was already making my way to the back, my touch lingering over the tops of the seats as I sauntered down the walkway. He was on me in an instant, turning me around by the hips and kissing me tenderly._

_Feeling as coy as ever, I grabbed hold of his collar and pulled him into one of the seats. He laughed into my mouth and I swallowed it whole. God I missed him. And as I kissed him, I hoped that he realized this. That everything in that moment, was absolutely perfect. Just like it used to be._

_As he began kissing my neck, I felt something welling up deep inside me. It was savage, dangerous, I could feel it – no. I could taste it. Like metal, coating my tongue and flooding my senses. I opened my eyes, my vision was ebbing red. I didn't know why, so I pushed him away, not able to think, no hope to control whatever was threatening to burst forth._

_My efforts to separate from him were met with extreme resistance. He wasn't budging. Instead he delved deeper, lavishing me more thoroughly. My neck, my nape, my chest, he was planting kisses all along it, opening my shirt and travelling down further. I reached a fist for his hair, desperate to get him off of me. Whatever was happening to me – it wasn't good. Something was threatening to burst forth, to destroy me, to emerge victorious and take shape._

_When he finally realized that something was wrong, it was too late. He looked up at me in shock, his eyes widening in fear. I reached out, clasping his soft throat in my hand, my nails digging into the tender flesh. He gasped, reaching for my grip and making some thoroughly disturbing gurgling noises as blood bubbled past his lips._

"_Brooke –" He gasped, desperately trying to slacken my hold on him._

_I threw him across the aisle at the sound of my name. He sat there, gasping, wheezing, looking up at me like I was a monster. I saw my reflection in the window, my eyes glowing yellow and fangs barred. I _was _a monster. Quickly, he stumbled out of the seat and ran for the front of the bus, trying to put as much distance between us as possible._

_That pissed me off beyond compare. I stood swiftly, reaching behind me and ripping out the seat from bolts and metal like it was nothing. I hefted it at my husband, almost reveling in his terrified screams. I licked my lips, excited for what was going to happen next._

_As I advanced towards him, that's when I realized – I wasn't attacking him at all. It was this – this monster. It was grotesque, hideous, hobbled. It looked like some horrifying cross between a wolf and a bear. Large, destructive, it stood on its haunches and I – _Werewolf. _A _werewolf_. I don't know why the thought stuck in my head. But once I thought it, I couldn't unthink it. That was the only thing that fit, that made sense._

_Listening to James's terrified cries, I couldn't remain for a moment longer. I charged towards the back of the bus, throwing open the safety door and running straight for home. Along the way, I swore I said something to someone, an urgent word, I told them to _run._ Who though, I didn't know. I couldn't see anything beyond the fast forest I was running for._

_When I made it back home, I practically fell through the door and onto my coffee table. I sliced my arm open along its sharp edge, causing me to call out in pain, and frustration. I looked around frantically, trying to figure out what was happening, where I could be safe. Something called me to the woods, something quiet, cold, but a subtle warmth. A gentle thrumming at the back of my skull, urging me towards it. I ignored the feeling, fumbling for my room, returning to his scent, wanting to drown myself in it and forget this was happening._

The second dream-me's head hit pillow, I woke up a second later. I sat up in one rush, feeling like I'd just been hit by a bus. I fell out of bed, trying to get to the bathroom. I was going to be sick, I was sure of it. I grabbed hold of the toilet bowl, regarding the dried blood collected underneath my fingernails and smearing my arm before I completely retched. My stomach was essentially empty to start so it was a less than pleasant ordeal. Because I usually enjoyed puking out my guts at a moment's notice.

After a few seconds, I was just dry heaving. No clue why, usually went you empty the vault there's no need to keep puking. Tears streaked my face when my body wouldn't relent. It was desperate to get _something_ out of me. Whatever it was, it wasn't good.

Finally, when that finished, I looked at my blood covered hands again. _Was my dream – more than a dream?_

I shook my head. _No. That's not possible._ It was just my guilt manifesting in nightmares. I was supposed to drive James to work the day he crashed. He was an insomniac and the night prior was a rough one, so I offered, and I neglected that offer. He drove off in his little station wagon and went and hugged a tree with it. All because I wanted an extra hour of sleep. I really was the worst.

My brain just wanted to solidify that I killed him.

I leaned against the cool tile wall, banging my head against it slightly. Cursing myself, _hating_ myself. It was all my fault. I looked at my good arm, noting scratch marks. _That's where all the blood came from_. Not James's throat, apparently. Not because I chased him down like a monster, not because I murdered him.

That's when it hit me, that _scent._ It was warmer, than usual. I could smell a lingering note of cinnamon, spicy and earthy. That paired with the rest of it – I found myself relaxing slowly. I inhaled it, exhaled it, closed my eyes and tried to only focus on that. It wasn't only a smell, but a sound. This light drumming. Not like someone was beating on an actual drum, but – drumming. It reminded me of a heartbeat, when you lay on someone's chest and there's this gentle thudding, sending you off to sleep.

I let the scent, sound, I let it all envelop me. For whatever reason, it was calming me beyond belief. I didn't understand it. The whole thought of a certain smell being able to placate your emotions was sort of beyond me. Perhaps aromatherapy wasn't such a crack thing after all.

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry about not posting yesterday! I actually meant to but I forgot I had lab last night so when I kept putting off the upload during the day because I was working on my online homework, I just wound up having no time to upload and reread! I hope you old readers don't mind how I've rearranged things. I think it flows better this way. A _lot _of chapters needed to be split up. Read and review because they make me happy and I'll love you forever! xoxo, Momma Love**


	7. Chapter Seven: Murder and Lacrosse

**Monkey Meets Wolf**

**Chapter Seven: Murder and Lacrosse, a Beacon Hills Pastime**

* * *

_Around here, if there isn't a murder during the week leading up to a lacrosse game, that's weird._

* * *

Somehow I'd fallen asleep on the bathroom floor, after that whole vividly explicit nightmare teamed with the excavation of my innards, I actually caught a few Z's. But then it only went downhill from there. I stood up, slipping on the hem of my sweats and nearly concussing myself against the sink, and then I walked out of the bathroom, hitting the doorjamb with my shoulder. I swore to myself, heading to my closet and stubbing my toe along the way.

When I opened the door, Kipper leapt out of nowhere and sank his teeth into my ankle. I didn't even bother yelling at him for it, I simply shook him off and retrieved an outfit for the day. Reaching for a hanger, I noticed my good ol' arm wound. Still hadn't healed all the way, so I quickly backtracked to the bathroom, sans further injury, cleaned the wound, and changed the wrappings.

Heading back out into the living room I went and gave Kipper fresh water, some food, and he bit me. Again. It took everything in my power not to chuck him across the lawn, the little demon. Literally biting the hand that feeds him. Deaton said he was perfectly fine. Perhaps he needed a home visit to see how homicidal my pup had gotten.

Trying to ignore the yipping fiend at my heels, I made my usual morning cup o' Joe, scalding my hand in the process and pissing me off even further. I ran cold water over it, hoping to dear sweet Gandhi above that it wouldn't burn – it did. Yeah, I wasn't in a good mood. I grabbed my keys from off the counter, got dressed quickly, and headed out to my truck; ready to head to work and not kill Kipper after he ripped a hole in my jeans.

Man did I have a case of road rage that day. I was tailgating like I was getting paid, flicked off little old ladies trying to cross the street, and overall drove like a freaking maniac. Something about two really vivid dreams in one night combined with a howling mutt and a very much appreciated reminder that I could've prevented my husband's death just made my day, apparently.

By the time I'd rolled up to the gas station, I'd calmed down considerably. Suppose I was just running out of things to get mad at. I gave the steering wheel one good final smack though before heading in, tying on my smock and heading in through the back. I ignored the "good mornings". It wasn't a good morning. Couldn't they tell that by my face?

As I pushed open the door into the store, nearly smacking a stock boy in the face, I trudged over to the counter, jumping over it and landing solidly at my post. Pam wasn't two feet from me, smacking the back of her hand with a carton of smokes, giving me her usual "worried about Brooke" look.

"Sugar?" She asked, reaching out for me. "Are you okay?"

With the most sarcastic smile of my life, I gave her an extremely exaggerated thumbs up. "I'm super swell!"

She knew by my tone that I wasn't in the talking mood. I wasn't much fun to be around when I was irritated. I pulled out my usual Cosmo, flipping through the pages angrily and ripping out the perfume samplers, rubbing them on my wrists so I smelled just like Charlize Theron.

When the door rang, I was half tempted to throw up my "please go to other register" sign. Then I noticed the very distinct sigh of a sheriff in way over his head and thought better of it. I looked up, regarding said sheriff as he repeatedly rubbed his hand over his hair.

"Long day?" I asked, knowing that he was probably having it at least ten times worse than I was.

He nodded, sighing and approaching the counter. "They're all long when there's a rabid animal on the loose attacking people."

"The usual, then?" I offered even though I was half way through making it.

"Make it a double – no, triple." He instructed, leaning down on the counter on his elbows. "You're _sure _that the thing that attacked you was a bear?"

I nodded, passing him his fresh cup and hunkering down to listen to his ramblings. "Yessir."

"This doesn't make any sense!" He sputtered. "Half the accounts say it's a mountain lion, but they were all too far away to really _see _it. And lab reports say it's a wolf! This just – what the hell is going on in this town?"

I sighed, feeling his frustration and pulling a doughnut out of the case and wrapping it up for him. "I'unno, sheriff. But here, on the house."

He looked up at me, a ghost of a thankful smile gracing his tired face. "Thanks, Brooke. You don't have to do this."

"Nah, I owe you one anyway, remember?" I grinned at him, ringing up his coffee a moment later. "$2.70, pay up sheriff."

He chuckled weakly, reaching for his wallet and pulling out three bills. "Keep the change."

I saluted the man as he marched out, ready and willing to put an end to all of the animal homicide. Seemed pretty simple to me, track the thing and shoot it. That's what the rangers do with rabid animals. Simple, easy, quick. But they seriously had no concrete idea of what it was. And you couldn't really go out killing every four-legged carnivore in the county. Not if you didn't want to get your ass ridden by PETA for the rest of your life.

I decided to go out to lunch that day. Needed to get my mind off the nightmares and the big hulking monster tormenting everyone in town. I can't believe that I thought it was a werewolf. We weren't in London, Hungary, or Forks. There's no way there was anything of the sort running around in the woods, surely. Ha. Ha ha. Ha ha ha ha ha.

The local diner sounded good for a greasy, disgusting, cheeseburger. I deserved it after the September I'd been having so far. I cruised down the street, much improved over me peeling through town like I did that morning. But I noticed police cars at the school, so I decided to check that out first. I parked out front, shrugging on my jacket and heading towards the bus garage. There was a swarm of people huddled together, trying desperately to see what was going on. I'll admit, I was curious.

"_Can you believe it?"_

"_No, he was my bus driver when I was a kid!"_

"_No one's safe, are they?"_

I'd grown accustomed to the voices, so I didn't question those. Still, I managed to piece together what happened. Someone got murdered on a bus –

_What._

I pushed through the crowd suddenly, desperately trying to get closer. _That was a dream – a dream! _I shouted this in my head, over and over again. But what I saw – it was like déjà vu. I saw me ripping James apart all over again, enjoying it, looking at the old bus driver it was all I could see. James, lying there, dead. I'd already seen him dead enough in my lifetime, thank you very much.

"Brooke?" Someone asked, a futile attempt to draw my attention. "What're you doing here?"

It was Stiles, one eye on the crime scene and the other on me. I was merely staring at the ground, letting the whole world start to spin around me. The ground bucked and swayed, I couldn't think straight.

"I think I'm gonna faint." I mumbled, swaying all the while.

Stiles quickly propped me up, not letting me hit the pavement. "Weak at the sight of blood?"

I let out a dry laugh, holding onto him weakly. "Yeah, maybe."

After recovering fully, I got the hell out of there. I sped for home and slammed the door shut behind me. With my hands in my hair I didn't see Kipper coming. He leapt out of nowhere and latched onto my arm and refused to let go. I immediately ripped him off of me and I chucked him into the couch. He came at me again so I grabbed him midair and tossed him. He hit the wall, whimpering, he retreated back into the little fort he'd made in my closet. He was going back to the vet, no doubt about it. And if that didn't help, I couldn't take it anymore. He'd have to live with Pam indefinitely. I wasn't in the mood to deal with a moody teenager.

Feeling as pissed as I had that morning, I quickly changed into some yoga pants and I headed out towards the woods for a run. Apparently I _did _make that mistake again. I didn't just run, either. I sprinted. Sprinted like crazy. I just wanted to forget – to stop thinking. To go through a day in my life and not hate falling asleep, going to work, leaving my house. I wanted everything to stop _sucking _so hard. I just wanted everything to be normal again.

Too bad normalcy was long behind me.

By the time I finally slowed down enough to catch my breath, I found myself on the same path that got me bit all those weeks ago. Not my best decision, didn't care. Running through the woods with a murderous mammal on the loose wasn't my best decision either. Still didn't care. I just wanted to run away from all the crap in my fucked up life. If that bear wanted to eat me whole, I'd probably let it.

Coming up on the Hale house, I felt like I'd exhausted most of my foul emotions. As well as exhausted myself. I sat down on the old porch, trying to ignore the fact that the thing could collapse on me any minute. I didn't really care. I rubbed at my temples, further clearing whatever the hell I was thinking. It was all a fuzz at that point.

"What're you doing here?"

I wasn't even surprised. I was far too tired for that. Random guy in the woods? Not the weirdest thing that week. I had a knife in my back pocket if I needed to cut someone.

"I went on a run, took a break and sat my butt down here." I exasperated, looking up and finding that one guy, Camaro. "Oh, it's Tall Dark and Brooding. Fancy meeting you here."

He didn't seem to be amused by my sarcasm. Shucks. "You shouldn't be out here."

I shrugged, not particularly caring. "You're probably right. Maybe that mountain lion will eat me. Teach me a lesson."

"You have a death wish?" He asked, clearly confused.

Again, shrugging. "Not really. I'm just far too exhausted to give a shit."

He shifted his weight, one leg, then the other, and then said, dry as a bone, "If you're going to get eaten, don't do it on my porch."

I couldn't help but laugh. "You've got the swankiest mansion in all of California."

He narrowed his eyes at me.

I blinked up at him, slightly befuddled, jamming my thumb behind me. "You're serious? You live here in the old Hale house? Isn't that a bit creepy? It's still got some lingering burnt flesh smells going on in there."

I'd be kicking myself for that comment for a few days. He didn't answer me. He just, toed the dirt. Cast his gaze downward before looking up at me, his eyes angry. I had no idea why he was looking at me like that. The Hale House fire was a historic moment in Beacon Hills, everyone knew about it. But then it hit me, and I almost hit myself.

"Fuck. You're a Hale, aren't you." I swore, and rightly so. I ran a hand through my hair, realizing I made a true and utter ass out of myself.

He snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Figured that out on your own, did you?"

"I deserve that." I admitted wholeheartedly, looking up at him with my most apologetic eyes. "Sorry. I was being insensitive."

He shrugged like he didn't care less. I saw his pupils dilate. I knew he cared. "Whatever. It happened a while ago."

I couldn't help but let out a dry chuckle. "I know quite well that those wounds don't heal. They fester, you clean it. They scab, people pick at them. After enough picking, they scar. And then you're left thinking about them whenever you have a second to spare for the rest of your life."

By the look on his face I _knew _that he hadn't expected me to say something like that. Something to profound and deep, I was quite proud of myself. I chuckled, standing up straight and stretching, giving Mr. Leather a small smile.

"Well, I'll leave you alone. So try not to catch a cold." I joked, nodding back towards the house. "It's a bit drafty in there."

With a sarcastic salute I started jogging back home, keeping my eyes and ears open in case trouble decided to visit. As I ran, I noticed the scent, the one I was _pretty _sure was Camaro's. Musky, leathery, spicy, and this hidden note of canine and a burning campfire. Lord, that was a good mix of smells. I don't know how, I don't know why, but I loved it. I smiled, picking up my pace and barely registering the eyes on me. Someone was watching me. Again. I was too distracted by the warmth coursing through me. Man my body was getting weird.

* * *

**Author's Note: Brooke makes me laugh. xoxo, Momma Love**


	8. Chapter Eight: A Favor for a Wolf

**Monkey Meets Wolf**

**Chapter Eight: A Favor for a Wolf**

* * *

_It's crazy what people think they can get away with in this town. And here I am left cleaning up the mess._

* * *

Days later and I was back at the station, looking through Vogue and chucking lighters at kids that were trying to steal beer. My super hearing was good in a whole other way. Teenagers whispering to each other about what they were gonna steal, how they were gonna do it, I always caught them. I was the station's guard dog – oh my God I was.

Scott stopped in that night, gushing about the date he had that night with Allison. Bowling, so clichéd. Still, I was happy for him. I ruffled his stupid little fluffy head, when he finally noticed the bandages on my arm.

"What happened?" He asked innocently enough.

I barked out a laugh. "Wow, Scott. This happened weeks ago."

He cast his gaze downwards, feeling a bit sheepish. "Sorry, I've been a bit – distracted."

I nodded, pinching his cheek lightly. "I know, kid. I'm just giving you a hard time. This big honking son of a bitch was a gift by whatever's been going around attacking and killing people. I suppose I was lucky."

Scott's eyes almost legitimately popped out of his head. "You were _bit _by that thing?"

"Yeah." I confirmed hesitantly, his change in tone startled me slightly. "The night before your scrimmage. Damn thing refuses to heal."

Perhaps I was missing something, but he sighed in relief. "That's good to hear."

"Excuse me?" I exasperated, letting out a disbelieving laugh. "You're saying that me having these gaping holes in my arm is a _good thing?_"

"What?" He questioned, frantic. "No – I mean – it's – it's complicated!"

I rolled my eyes, lightly pushing him away from the counter. "Get out of here, you weird kid. Don't you have a girlfriend to dote on?"

"She's not my girlfriend –" He paused, a devilish grin creasing his cute face. "Yet."

"That's the spirit." I commended him, smiling wide as I watched him run out and bike away.

Things remained quiet for about, five more minutes? Camaro rolled up, parking at his usual pump before heading in, paying for the gas, a paper, and heading back out. After that whole mini heart-to-heart by 4Minute – I mean in the woods, we went back to normal. He came in every day or so for coffee, every few days for gas, didn't bring up our little talk at all. But he seemed to be a little less hardened from what I'd seen. Good for him.

But while he was pumping gas that one night, he was more on edge than usual. I found myself watching him, trying to figure out what was going on with him. When two cars pulled in, effectively blocking him off, I felt that he was waiting for something like that to happen. I didn't want to intercede unless necessary, being that I didn't know the guy very well. Or at all. All I knew was that he's a Hale. And he had a sleek ass car.

That being said about "not getting involved", I turned on the bionic hearing. Eavesdropping is getting to be a favorite pastime of mine. I wasn't any good at it in the past.

"_Nice ride." _Someone said, let's call him Jim. _"Black cars though – very hard to keep clean. I would definitely suggest a little more maintenance."_

Suddenly there was this sloshing sound, I looked out to see that Jim had grabbed a squeegee.

"_When you have something this nice – you want to protect it, right? Personally, I'm _very _protective of the things I love. That's something I learned from my family. And you don't have much of that these days." _Jim paused, giving me enough time to decide whether or not to head out there. _"Do you?"_

I was already out the door, having slipped the stores pistol into the waist of my jeans. I'd never shot it before, but I didn't want to head out there unarmed.

"Excuse me!" I said in the most chipper voice I could manage. "There are plenty of other pumps open, should you wish to use one. If you're going to loiter, I'm going to have to ask you to leave –"

_Assault rifles._ I suddenly noticed. _They're carrying _assault rifles.

"No, no," Jim objected with a very convincing smile, "that's alright. We just wanted to offer some friendly advice to Derek here."

"Yeah, well, I'm going to have to ask you and your firearms to leave the premise." I smiled at them, sugar sweet, totally missing Camaro's actual name.

Jim grinned, putting the squeegee away. "At least you can see through your windshield now."

The posse of nuts with guns turned towards their prospective cars, when Derek had to go and open his big fat mouth.

"You forgot to check the oil." He sneered, challenging a group of guys with assault rifles. Smart.

Jim paused briefly, looking over his shoulder at us. "Check the man's oil."

One of his associates sauntered over to the driver's side of the car, inspecting it as he went. Then he brought up his rifle and used it to smash out the window. Right in front of me. _Wow. I'm calling the cops._

"Looks good to me." The Camaro-Killer commented, like he'd actually checked his oil.

Jim had this stupid smug grin on his face that I wanted to punch right off of him. "Drive safely."

They all climbed into their cars after that, speeding away as I dotted down their license plates, jogging after them so I could get the last few numbers. I turned back, watching _Derek_ pull open his door, dusting away the broken glass with his jacket. He was about to get in when I stopped him.

"Hey!" I called out to him. "You can't drive around town in _that!_"

He was glowering at me, clearly not in a good mood after that whole ordeal, who can blame him. "Do I really have a choice?"

I looked at my watch, the garage was probably closed for the night but I still had keys. I could definitely do a quick, albeit temporary, fix for the guy. This wasn't his fault. And I had enough life insurance coming out of my ears. I could spare a grand on the guy.

"Look, my – friend – he owns a shop." I stammered a bit, almost calling him my father-in-law when, in truth, he wasn't anymore. "I'll clock out here and you can follow me over there. I'll do a quick fix so you won't get pulled over later."

His aggression wavered slightly, contemplating my offer, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. "Fine."

I gave him a smile before saluting him and running back inside. I told Pam the situation, told Tracy (the night manager) to call the cops and have the security tapes ready. There was no way those assholes were getting away with what they did. This town had already gone fuck-up. It didn't need a group of guys with guns making it worse.

Heading back out, he had parked beside me, standing against his car and waiting for us to depart. I took out my keys and climbed into my truck, started her up, and pulled out of the gas station, my eyes on the rearview mirror to make sure he was following me.

We pulled into the shop a minute or so later, my door open before I even put it into park. I unlocked one of the garage doors and motioned for Derek to head on in, guiding him as I did. When he was finally inside, I unlocked the front door and sat down at the front desk, turning the computer on and ready to get to work.

"Is this going to take long." He asked, but didn't. He never had much of a questioning tone.

I pulled out a pen and started filling out forms and chewing on the cap in alternation. "No, not really. I'm just getting you a quick replacement. Hard plastic, able to see out of, can withstand most anything. You can place an order for the actual glass you're going to need, Chevy will need to send it special. We don't have a lot of parts around her compatible with a 2011 Camaro."

He shifted where he stood, leaning on the counter, almost. "How much is this going to cost me."

"Well, I'm doing this temporary fix for free." I decided to let him know, and I was. "The standard glass shouldn't cost more than a couple hundred. Though, I'd almost recommend bulletproof if you expect any more assault rifles wanting to get intimately acquainted with your car."

I was entirely joking, but when I looked up at him, I realized that I probably shouldn't've been. He seemed to like the idea.

"I'll order bulletproof." He noted, pulling out his wallet before I went to stop him.

"That's grand and all, but I only know how to fill out the standard forms. If you want anything special ordered, you're going to have to come in tomorrow and talk to Don." I informed him, pausing slightly. "Well, I could get your information in the system, make it easier for the next time."

He nodded, handing me his wallet and insurance information. I held the pen in my mouth and started typing in his info. I wasn't much of a secretary, so that took longer than it should have. Never did office work real well.

"What happened to your arm?" He asked suddenly, drawing my attention away from the paperwork.

I pulled the pen out of my mouth, tapping my arm with it. "Had a run-in with that mountain lion a few weeks ago. Left me with quite the injury. But I got a couple of good kicks in to its face. So I suppose we're even."

"Did it scratch you?" He continued to question me, but not looking surprised at all by my answers.

"It probably did that too." I chuckled, trying to return to printing out the forms. "But no, I was bitten. The thing sank its nice big Jaws chompers into my arm and refused to let go."

He made a sound of indecision, but again, not surprised, so I decided to return to what I was doing. _Tip tap tip tap tip tap tip tap. _The printer spat out all the necessary forms, and I handed them to him to sign.

"This is just for the plastic I'll be putting in in a minute. Fill out the top half and you'll be all set." I instructed him, handing him the pen – decided against that – got him a _new _pen that hadn't been slobbered on by yours truly.

He quickly scratched down the information before looking up at me. "What about payment?"

I waved him off, smiling a bit. "Don't sweat it, sweetheart. I'll be taking care of that."

He didn't seem to like that, big guy paying for the big things, I supposed. But he handed the forms back to me, along with his keys, and I filed them quickly. The papers, not the keys. That being settled I turned towards the coat rack behind me and pulled off one of the jumpsuits. It wasn't mine but I wasn't picky. I was ready to get to work.

"There's plenty of magazines here –" I started, before thinking better of it. "You don't look like much of a magazine guy. But there isn't much else to do. So –"

I decided to stop talking. I stepped into the suit and headed out to the garage, grabbing a work belt and a pair of glasses on the way through. I didn't waste a single second. I opened the door, took off the paneling, and got right to it.

An hour or so later, I was done. I grabbed a rag and wiped the sweat off my brow, standing up and testing the window, checking to see it rolled up and down properly. All was good. Proud of my work I returned to Derek, tossing him his keys with a triumphant grin on my face.

"You're all set." I breathed, a bit tired after the constant work I had to do in the middle of the night. "I'll get that order filled out and call you when it's ready."

He nodded, a smile threatening to form at the corner of his lips. "You've got a little –"

Quirking a brow at him, I wondered what he was talking about. He approached me, pulling the rag out of my pocket and raising it to my face. He held my head, using the cloth to wipe off something on my face. I scrunched up my face, realizing it was probably oil by how hard he was pressing into my forehead.

"Done." He proclaimed, stepping away and handing me back the rag.

I chuckled, stuffing the thing back into my pocket. "Thank you, mother Derek. What would I do without you?"

He rolled his eyes, clearly not amused by me. Though, he wasn't glaring at me. So maybe he didn't hate me, if just a little bit.

"Alright," I started, clapping my hands together, "we should probably get out of here."

He nodded, heading for the garage, almost waiting for me to follow. I waved him on, telling him to get going. He obliged, pushing the door open and approaching his car. I walked out there, standing in the doorway and giving him a bit of a smile.

"My name's Brooke, by the way." I decided to tell him for whatever reason.

He snorted a bit, opening his door and looking up at me. "I know that. You wear a nametag at the gas station."

I slapped my forehead. _Man, I'm such an idiot._

Perhaps he was chuckling, I don't know. But he slipped into his car, started her up, and peeled out of the garage before I was able to really say much more. Not that I really had anything to say. I _was _going to ask what sort of cologne he wore, but I decided not to. Less creepy. I swore I heard something as we were talking though, something getting – _faster. _It was weird. I tried to ignore it. Tried, and failed.

* * *

**Author's Note: Little K-Pop reference there. Brooke still makin' me giggle. xoxo, Momma Love**


	9. Chapter Nine: Stop, Drop, and Roll

**Monkey Meets Wolf**

**Chapter Nine: Stop, Drop, and Roll**

* * *

_More like stop, narrowly avoid being murdered, and roll._

* * *

It was a couple of nights after temporarily fixing up Derek's car when things _really _started to get interesting. I was closing up shop one night, playing Candy Crush at the front desk while I watched a couple of the garage brats file in after lacrosse practice. Their dad's greeting them at the door and proceeding to shirk any and all work they had afterwards. I was in charge while Don wasn't there, so I just told them all to go home. It was a slow day, anyways. Just filling out orders and processing them. No big deal.

So as I shut out all of the lights and kicked out the lingering rift-raft, I felt something heavy in the air. It was weird. I couldn't quite place it. I looked over my shoulder, wondering if someone was behind me. No dice. Shaking my head, I shrugged off my jumpsuit and headed out to my truck. I made sure the doors were locked before that feeling started pressing on me again. Something told me I should head home without delay. Like – _immediately._

Quickly I grabbed my keys from my pocket, dropping them on the ground by how much I was fumbling. I picked them up, regarding my tremoring hand. Something was wrong. I knew it deep in my gut. And my truck was parked across the street. I really didn't want to move from my spot, but I had to. I _had _to get out of there. Before things got worse.

I jogged over to my truck, pulling open the door and tossing my jumpsuit into the passenger seat. My arm – the wound – it started to tingle. Like my body was desperately trying to warn me further. I rubbed at it, trying to dissipate whatever awful feeling was lingering in the air. I decided, _to hell with it_. I started her up, all the while trying to calm an erratic heartbeat.

_What the hell's going on?_

I wasn't even two miles down the road when the roof of my truck suddenly caved in. I ducked out of the way, swerving back into my lane and trying to figure out what fell on the cab. I didn't get long. Something broke through my window, grabbing me by the shoulder and tossing me out like a bag of trash.

Rolling across the road, I got on my stomach and watched as my truck wrapped itself around a tree about half a mile in the distance. Whatever had attacked me, I couldn't see it. I looked up, behind me, around me, nothing. So I stood gingerly, noticing that I'd screwed up my ankle in that whole ordeal. Which was a miracle. I could've easily broken a leg. And then some.

Looking for some place to hide, I noticed one of the old abandoned iron mills in front of me. I ignored the pain in my foot and I made a mad dash for it. Abandoned factories were better than nothing, I suppose. Ignoring the fact that the beast was probably there already, I found a spot against a wall to look at the damage done. The thing had ripped open my shoulder and I was bleeding everywhere. It was pretty awful. Disgusting, really.

_Whatever's killing people, it sure as hell ain't a mountain lion._

The thing – it had a _grip_. Meaning, it had thumbs. That was absolutely impossible for any mammal that wasn't a human or a monkey. As each day passed, this whole ordeal was just getting more and more confusing.

"What the –"

I looked up, it was Derek. He looked like hell, like he'd been running for a couple of hours. At least. I tried to stand, making the mistake of trying to use my bad arm to prop me up. I cringed, landing with a bit of a thud.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" He hissed at me through clenched teeth, coming to my side and examining my bloody shoulder.

I shrugged, trying to stay the panic rising in my chest. "Driving home from work. What're you doing here?"

He didn't answer me, he was too busy ripping off the hem of his shirt and using the stray fabric to bandage my wound. He tied it a bit tight, hesitating only slightly when I winced and unconsciously pulled away.

"What happened?" He asked me, clearly in a hurry but also taking the time to make sure I was alright. That didn't seem like the brooding man I'd come to know.

I tested my shoulder, rotating it and biting back the pain. "That thing – whatever's killing everyone – yanked me out of my truck and tossed me into the middle of the street. I'm just glad he didn't rip my arm off."

Almost gently, he brought his hand to my face, wiping away something on my cheeks. It was wet. _Oh. I'm crying._ I hadn't even noticed it. Perhaps I already _was _panicking. Not a far stretch, having been through what I had.

Suddenly, a gunshot. I looked up, probably looking more terrified than I ever had before. Without warning, Derek grabbed my good arm, turned, and pulled it over his shoulder. Almost like I knew what he was trying to say, I climbed onto his back.

"Hold on." He instructed me, a faint softness to his tone.

I did as I was told, despite my left shoulder screaming in protest as I wrapped it around his neck loosely. I had no idea what he was planning. He just looked up at the building I'd been leaning against, and he jumped up and grabbed onto the fire escape.

_How strong _is _this guy? _I asked myself while he climbed.

Eventually, he ran out of ladder. What he was going to do next, I had no clue. But I locked my wrists and prepared for it. He pushed off the building, turning quickly and grabbing onto a barred off window across the diagonal gap. He did this once more, climbing up onto the roof and surveying our surroundings. Once he deemed us safe, for the moment, he knelt down and allowed me to slide right on off.

"Are your nights always this exciting?" I asked quietly, mostly for my own benefit.

He cast me a side glance, clearly paying attention to something else. He lifted his nose into the air and sniffed – like _actually _sniffed. One more hesitant second later, and he was back at my side. I felt the shock leaving my system, allowing me to breathe easy again. He looked at me, already knowing where my injuries were. Gently he probed my ankle, rolling the joint to see how bad it was. I hissed loudly, backing away from him, trying to get my foot out of his reach.

"It's sprained." He proclaimed, pushing the leg of my jeans up slightly, further examining it.

I chuckled dryly. "Thanks. I'd gathered that much."

While his expression for the past few minutes had actually been significantly less harsh than usual, it quickly went back to that firm scowl. _Oops_. He moved his attention to my bite mark, like he had the other night. He started unwrapping it when I stopped him.

"I promise you, that hasn't been further injured tonight." I tried to protest.

He wasn't listening to me. He undid the tape, unraveled the gauze, and looked over the mark. It wasn't that bad, not as bad as it was. He turned my arm over, thoroughly inspecting the holes bored into it.

"It still hasn't healed?" He said quietly to himself, like that was the most impossible thing in the world.

I looked up at him then, realizing something. "What're you even doing here, Derek?"

He honestly looked like he didn't want to answer me. "The thing that bit you. It's here."

_I figured_. I noted sarcastically to myself.

That's when Derek stood and he was promptly shot in the arm. The force of the shot sent him off the roof, his dense body clanged as he crashed into an empty storage carrier before landing royally hard on the pavement, out of view. I debated scrambling over to the edge, to see if he was alright, but I truly had no desire to be shot along with him.

Still, there was this – feeling. I couldn't explain it I wanted to find the person who shot him. I really did. I wanted to grab them by their throat and tear out their trachea with my teeth. These thoughts – I had no idea where they were coming from. It was unheard of. I'm not an inherently violent chick, and I wasn't close to Derek. He was a good enough guy and we got along good enough.

Just something about the thought of him being injured set something in me ablaze. Like an animal lunging at their cage, trying desperately to free themselves. My nails were digging into the roof, quite literally. The shingles broke underneath my – claws? I looked at them, they were claws. No doubt about it. I shook my head furiously. Clearly I was seeing things.

"_Get in."_

I perked up considerably, having heard that. I climbed up the roof, nestling at the peak and regarding what was happening bellow.

It was that guy. _Jim_. And a woman I didn't know.

"_Not even a "hello", "nice to see you"?"_

"_All I've got at the moment is "please put the assault rifle away before someone notices"."_

_Too late for that, buddy._

The woman, she laughed. _"_That's _the brother I love. There were two of them, if you cared to know."_

"_The Alpha?"_

"_I don't know, but one of them tried to kill me."_

"_One of them was going to lead us to the other, he can't do that if he's _dead_."_

Pause. There was a scent, a familiar one. Pine, Axe, a faint smell of canine, just like with Derek. It was Scott. I looked around frantically, trying to see where he was. To punch him in the face and tell him to get the hell out of there. But the overwhelming smell of blood, Derek's blood, completely masked Scott's and forced me to return my attention to the assault rifle siblings.

"_Well I can't help kill either_ _of them if one of them kill me first."_

Long pause.

"_How long will it take?"_

"_I give him 48 hours. If that."_

The two made for Jim's car, I could recognize that hunk with my eyes closed. I quickly looked around for Scott, remembering that he was there, for whatever reason. Surely it was a stupid one. But – suddenly – he was gone. _Thank God._

I slid down the roof, stopping at the edge and looking down at Derek. He'd managed to sit up against one of the crates, his sleeve rolled up and the wound in full view. I don't know how I did it, but I got down there beside him. I jumped, just as he had with me on his back, grabbing exactly where I needed to before quickly rebounding and landing on the ground. I don't know how or why my ankle stopped hurting, but it did.

Quickly I rushed to his side, regarding how his bullet wound bore a faint bluish glow. Which was weird.

"Derek, are you –"

"I'm fine." He interrupted, gritting his teeth and trying to stand. "Go home."

With that, he made a run for it. One second there, one second gone. Nothing left behind but a pool of his blood. I looked after him, inhaling, exhaling – the scent. _His_ scent. It changed. There was the usual shmuck, cinnamon, leather, musk, whiskey, but there was something else. It caused my stomach to tie itself in knots. It was putrid, devastating, it was – _death._

* * *

**Author's Note: Getting serious tomorrow, with the chapter that was giving me hell. Who wants to see the vet! xoxo, Momma Love**


	10. Chapter Ten: Saw X

**Monkey Meets Wolf**

**Chapter Ten: Saw X**

* * *

_There's nothing like amputation to round out your day._

* * *

"_Hey, Brooke, my Jeep's making this weird noise, can you come and check it out?"_ _Sure, Stiles, I'd be glad to. I'm Brooke, the Saint of Beacon Hills. Ready and willing to do whatever's asked of me while avoiding being ripped apart by a monster!_

I was saying this to myself while I held a bone saw against Derek's arm. He was just standing there, hunched over, looking like death himself. His skin, already pale, had turned this sickly grey. That, paired with his ink black hair, his pale green eyes, and the large purple circles accentuating his sockets, he looked like something out of Shaun of the Dead. He was practically dripping in a cold sweat, the veins in his left forearm were coursed with black goo, and did I mention the bone saw I was holding against him?

Okay, let's back up.

After Derek got shot, I immediately went looking for him. He wasn't at home, but his car was. That meant he would just be that much harder to find him when he was on foot. I didn't have the whole "Derek Radar" yet. That would come eventually. I seriously had no clue where he could be and I barely knew the guy. Still, I felt connected to him. I needed to know that he was alright. I mean, he'd only been shot in the arm, there was no way he'd die from something like that – right?

Eventually, I gave up. Assuming he was fine and all was well I went home and went to bed, waking up the next morning to the shrill ring of my cell phone. I fell onto the ground trying to find it. It went to voicemail, but then started ringing again. Feeling a bit more awake, I started tossing clothes around, trying to remember what I was wearing the night before. Finally I heard it clunk to the floor and I put it against my ear.

Voicemail.

I threw myself back onto my bed, defeated. Head on my pillow, I wondered why I felt so tired. I actually had a good night's sleep, for once. I raised my phone up above me, letting me look through my missed calls with minimal effort on my part. Pam called me a couple of times, don't know why. I also had a call from Stiles, and a few text messages. All pretty much saying the same exact thing.

"Can you check out my Jeep? It's parked at the school."

I texted him back, agreeing to it, _that's _when I realized the time. It was well past noon. I should've been up hours ago to start my shift. That's probably why Pam was hounding me. Glad it was that and not some odd bout of her worrying about my well-being. Though, after the third or fourth call, she was probably doing just that. Oops.

So I walked to the school, thinking Stiles could give me a ride back after I did the quick checkup he requested. Me not having a truck and all – shit. _Maybe _that's _why Pam's calling me. Because my car's in the shop and I didn't put it there._ It was a thought. And a correct one.

As I walked, I called her. If just to make sure she knew that I was okay –

"_Brooklyn Sophia!_" I heard her shriek through the phone, her voice reaching a dangerous decibel. "Where have you been!"

"I'm sorry, Pam, I-"

"Don't you _sorry_ me, young lady!" She continued to yell. "I get a call from Donny at five in the morning and you know what I hear? _Your truck_ has mysteriously wrapped itself around a tree and you're nowhere to be found! I wonder how that happened!"

I felt pretty awful while she screamed at me, though, I more than deserved it. "I'm really sorry, Pam, a lot went down and I didn't-"

"Do you know how worried we all were?" She interrupted, and I gladly let her. "No one could get a hold of you! We were about to send someone to make sure you weren't in the hospital! _Again!_"

You could hear a soft sound in between her shouts. Pam was crying, or had been. I wasn't kidding when I said I was like a daughter to her. I _am _a daughter to her. All of the maternal instinct welling up inside of her for 40 some years finally had been put to use. So, I understood why she was doting over me so much. I just wasn't used to my family giving much of a shit. It never registered that anyone besides myself would care about my general well-being.

I sighed, not wanting her to cry anymore. "Pam, I'll be by in a second."

"Yeah!" She exclaimed. "You better!"

So I hung up, shoving my phone back into my pocket and blowing warm air into my cupped hands. I stopped by the gas station on the way through, letting Pam try and squeeze the life out of me. I reassured her that I was completely fine, let her give me a once over, and after fifteen minutes or so, I was back on my way. Though, I did get slapped once.

I texted Stiles, telling him to meet me out front soon so I didn't freeze. The idiot didn't leave his keys out for me. He came rushing out a minute or so after I heard a bell ring, followed by the rest of Beacon Hills. _The Stampede._ Guess school let out.

"Thanks so much for this." He thanked me, goofy grin on his face. "I owe you, big time."

I couldn't help but snort. "Sweetie, you've owed me ever since I became your getaway driver when you and Scott decided to TP Coach's house. Your debt's just been accumulating since then."

He looked just the slightest bit sheepish after that. "True – wait! You threw just and much toilet paper as we did!"

I shrugged, not denying it in the slightest. "I'm still the one that drove your asses off when Coach started chucking lacrosse balls at your lopsided heads."

"Well, that's –" He stammered. "That's true."

I laughed, patting the kid on the back and leading him towards his Jeep. "C'mon, enough reminiscing, let's get this puppy taken care of."

It really was a quick fix, loss cap under the hood. A monkey could've figured it out, and one sort of did. Done and done before I really had a chance to break a sweat. No fun at all. And Stiles agreed to give me a ride for my troubles (like I'd hoped) so I climbed into the passenger seat and we were ready to go when –

_Derek._

He stepped in front of Stiles's jeep, his hand raised in a meager attempt to stop it. He stood there, staggering, while Stiles and I sort of planted our jaws firmly on the floor. Last place I thought I'd see that guy. Eventually, when I could tell he was going to fall, I practically kicked open the door and rushed to his side. Luckily I managed to catch his head before it hit the ground.

"Jesus shit." I swore once I got a good look at him. He looked positively awful. And that's being generous. "Why haven't you gone to the hospital?"

I didn't expect anyone to show up beside me, least of all Scott. I had no idea they knew each other. He looked at me while we crouched beside Derek, his eyes wide with disbelief, probably a lot like mine.

"Brooke –" He stammered, his brown eyes blinking rapidly. "What're you – what're you doing here?"

"Stiles had me take a look at his jeep, he was giving me a ride home." I informed him, reverting my attention back to Derek who looked like he was going to pass out any minute. "Seriously – was a trip to the emergency room too much to ask for?"

"Wait –" Scott continued to blather like an idiot (I love the kid but I wasn't in the mood). "You know what happened to him?"

I looked up at him and nodded – and then slapped him upside the head. "Why the hell were you there? Are you stupid or what!"

"Where?" He asked, his dumbfounded expression never wavering. "You mean the factory? How'd you know I was there – why were _you _there?"

"As to how, you really need to ease up on the Axe, I can smell you a mile away." I informed him with a roll of my eyes. "As to why, running away from a monster trying to kill me."

Derek spoke up just then, raising himself up onto his elbows. "She's one of us, Scott. She just – she doesn't know."

"I don't care what I know and don't know!" I protested. "We need to get you to a hospital. You were shot for Christ's sake!"

"She's – when?" Scott asked him, forgetting momentarily that Derek looked like he was _dying_.

"Does it matter!" Derek barked back. He wasn't in the mood for pointless questions.

Stiles was standing beside us just after I said that, looked as flustered as Scott. "He's not looking so good, dude."

I gave Stiles the most vehement glare of my life. "Thanks for the input! You're _so _helpful!"

"Why aren't you healing?" Scott practically whispered to Derek, despite the fact that I could hear every word.

Derek wheezed and panted, laboring for every breath. "It - it was a different kind of bullet."

"What, a silver bullet?" Stiles asked like it wasn't a completely ridiculous question.

"No, you idiot." Derek and I both said. Well, he said "no" and we both said "you idiot".

I resisted the urge to stand up and slap Stiles. It was a mighty urge. "Why would it be silver? Why do you care? This isn't Underworld! Silver bullets aren't a thing!"

"Wait, wait." Scott interrupted, seeming to have remembered something important. "That's what she meant when she said you have 48 hours."

"What?" Derek questioned, his tone very muddled, like he was having a hard time maintaining a single train of thought. "Wh-who said 48 hours?"

I snapped my fingers, remembering just as Scott did. "It was this chick, she's apparently the sister of the guy that commanded the posse that smashed out your window." I looked up at Stiles, ignoring a snarl from the wounded man in my arms. "If we know who she is we should probably call your dad –"

"_No_." Derek objected harshly before cringing like he'd just been stabbed. He bit his lip, and his eyes started to glow an unnatural sort of ice blue.

Scott quickly whipped his head around while I was trying to figure out what the hell was going on. "What're you doing? Stop that!"

Derek levelled him a look, full of his usual anger. "That's what I'm trying to tell you – I _can't_."

"We really should get you to the hospital, this isn't normal–" I still insisted, futilely, I might add. Logic had died in this conversation. Logic died in Beacon Hills several years ago, apparently.

"Derek." Scott said, his voice strong and willful like I'd never known. "_Get. Up._"

He didn't look like he appreciated being ordered around, but he tried. He tried to stand up and – he failed. I quickly grabbed hold of one of his arms when I saw him starting to fall again. Scott took the other arm and we hefted him up. Without saying anything, we got Derek into Stiles's jeep. I hopped into the back, not leaving the brooding jerk alone for a second.

"I need you to find out what bullet she used." He told Scott, seemed to have calmed down from the glowing-eye thing he was doing earlier. At least _that _much was taken care of. Now all that was left was the whole dying business.

"What we _need _is for you to seek some medical attention like a sane person would!" I still protested. I wasn't giving up.

Derek looked back at me, glaring something fierce and effectively shutting me up. I seriously hate when he does that.

"Well, how am I supposed to do that!" Scott objected, looking severely overwhelmed by the whole ordeal, his arms spread wide.

"She's an Argent," Derek clarified quite angrily, "she's with them!"

"You know them?" I asked, leaning forward, my fear of Derek disappearing instantaneously.

Derek cast me a brief glance. "Yeah. We know them."

"Why should I even help you?" Scott continued, like he'd totally be okay with letting someone die.

"Because _I'm _not going to let you refuse, Scott." I threatened as I glared at the kid. "You might be okay with letting him waste away, but I won't be having more guilt on my conscious. Savvy?"

Scott cast his gaze towards the ground, retreating back into his shell. "I'm sorry, Brooke. But – Derek – you don't understand what he's –"

"You need me." Derek interjected, his gaze much kinder than it usually was.

That seemed to buy Scott over. "Fine. I'll try."

"Alright, time to go to the hospital." I tried to instruct Stiles as he climbed into the driver's seat.

Derek winced, bucking back in his seat a bit. "No – no hospitals."

"Just – get him out of here." Scott said to his best friend from the window before backing up.

"I hate you so much right now." Stiles sneered, putting the car in drive and heading out to the main road.

As we drove through town aimlessly, the two were sniping at each other nonstop. It was giving me a headache. More than a headache. My head felt like it was splitting. I drifted off eventually, ignoring them to the fullest extent of my ability. It took a while, but it could be done. Waking up, though, I felt a hundred times worse. I tried to regulate my breathing, tried to remain neutral. I just couldn't do it.

"Ugh, you still smell like you're dying. I think it's making my brain all fuzzy."

Stiles looked back at me, and double taking for whatever reason. "Her eyes – you weren't kidding."

"Did I _sound _like I was kidding?" Derek snarled, his pain only aggravating him more.

"But – how? Why is she changing?" Stiles continued, trying to focus on driving.

Seriously, Derek didn't seem to be in the mood to talk, but he did anyway. I'm so proud of him. "The stuff that's trying to kill me? It would kill her too if it was coursing through her. Her body's defending itself."

"It's not in her though."

_Stiles, shut up._

"That doesn't mean her senses aren't registering it. Now shut up, you're pissing me off."

_Thank you._

Several times I faded out of consciousness. I didn't understand why I was progressively feeling weaker and weaker, but I was. I wanted to respond to the two bickering, yet, I didn't have any energy to. I laid down in the back, trying to figure out what was going on. _We're going to the hospital, right?_ When people get shot, they go to the hospital. Not if you're Derek Hale though, apparently. You go to the vet.

That – that's actually really funny to me right now. Holy shit that's a good one.

"Stiles, roll down her window." Derek growled at his chauffeur.

"Why can't she do it –"

"Don't talk about me like I'm not even here." I mumbled as dryly as I could when I felt a cool breeze wash over me.

Having completely his task, Stiles shifted in his seat, edging away from Derek but still casting me a worried glance. "Are you going to tell her?"

"What did I just say?" I groaned, wanting to throttle the kid.

Derek groaned, hunching over himself and clutching at his arm. "If I _survive _the next twelve hours, I might consider it!"

I cracked open my eyes, they resisted, heavily. I think I phased out though. Or passed out, or whatever. Night had fallen by the time I woke up again and we most certainly were not in the hospital parking lot. No, we were parked alongside the road like a couple of ass-clowns. Almost gearing up to rip both of them a new one, I heard Stiles punch in a number into his phone.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with him?" He complained to whoever he called, probably Scott.

"_Take him – somewhere!" Yeah, that's Scott. "Anywhere!"_

Stiles groaned, resting his forehead in his hand. "And by the way, he's starting to smell."

"_Like – like what?"_

"Like _death_."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Man, you're only smelling that _now? _You're lucky, kid. I'm really not liking my new sense of smell."

I started phasing again, my vision was blurry and there was this deep ache inside of me. I actually – it was getting hard to breathe. I felt myself struggling for air, and yet I couldn't stop coughing. There was something – a smell. It was flowery, sweet, _dangerous_. I think it was always there, just Derek's overwhelming death stench – well – overwhelmed it.

"Get out."

"This is my car –"

"_Get. Out._"

I don't know what Stiles did to piss him off, I didn't particularly care. Once the door clunked shut behind the neurotic nutball, Derek shifted, don't know where, my vision was just a blur. Something was over me, and then there was something on my mouth. Warm and wet and – was he kissing me? _No way_. I told myself. Still – that felt like a mouth – and a tongue.

But, miraculously, I started to feel better. Despite the breath of whoever kissing me was dead awful. _Derek?_ Nothing like the remedy of a tongue belonging to a man you barely know exploring your mouth. Then, it was gone.

"Looks like we're taking the dog to the vet." Stiles informed us, rejoining the masses. Quite sarcastically, I might add.

_Shit, I think I phased out again._

I sat up, the odd lethargy out of my system for the most part. "I don't know if you're calling me a bitch or him a mongrel."

"Good." Stiles sighed in relief. "You're awake. Also – neither. Well – maybe the second one."

Derek growled. Like, actually growled.

"Is Deaton going to be taking care of this?" I asked, logic still escaping me. "Or are we just going to euthanize him?"

Then he growled at me.

"I was just kidding. Mostly." I admitted, shaking my head and wondering why my mind was so clouded. "Seriously though, what's the plan here? I sort of running on fumes so I won't be of much use to you."

"To not die. That's the plan." Derek replied in a tone that was quite dry. Like, dry like Sahara, dry. But his optimism was earthshattering.

Due to me feeling weak as hell, I lost most of my reason. I was no longer screaming for them to _get to a fucking hospital_. I stopped questioning their nonchalance with the whole ordeal. In my days, I've never actually taken care of anyone who's been shot, but I was pretty sure this wasn't the way to go. I just – I wasn't thinking straight. I can't explain it, my brain just wasn't working. But it was getting there.

We pulled up to the animal clinic shortly thereafter and everything kicked back into gear. I stumbled out after Stiles and we both helped Derek not fall on his face as he stepped down from the Jeep. Being out in fresh air again, I felt like I was back to 100%.

_Thank fucking God._

"We'll hide out here until Scott gets back." Stiles told me as we lugged Derek in.

"I don't see why we couldn't just – y'know – go to the hospital." I threw back at him, rational thought returning to me. Hip hip hooray!

He smiled over at me like I'd just told a joke. "If this was a regular bullet, he wouldn't even need a Band-Aid."

"Stiles, he isn't Superman." I rolled my eyes, thinking that he was exaggerating.

That made him chuckle just a little. "Maybe not, but he's close enough."

We quickly made our way into the main examination room, ignoring the particularly loud ruckus from the feline area. Once we pushed through the door, Derek, who'd since been unresponsive for the most part, came back to life and was busy pulling his shirt over his head. I flicked on the lights and I turned around to see the wound on his arm – _that's disgusting._

"Derek –" I started to protest, staring at the black veins in his arms and the blood dripping onto the table, "that – you need to get that looked at!"

Beside me, Stiles was gagging, unable to look the wound in the face. "Really? That doesn't look like anything a little Echinacea and a good night's sleep couldn't take care of!"

I slapped the kid across the shoulder, and then pinched his side for good measure. "You're not getting out of this. You're the reason I'm in this mess!"

"How is this my fault?" He shrieked back at me.

"_Hey Brooke, come over here and fix my shitty jeep!_" I mimicked in his voice.

"That's not fair, I had no idea –"

"Will you two just _shut up!_" Derek yelled at us, still staggering a bit. "If the infection reaches my heart, it'll kill me. I'm not dying with your annoying voices being the last thing I hear."

He turned around then, searching through cabinets for whatever while Stiles retorted, "Positivity justisn't in your vocabulary is it?"

"If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time…" Derek continued, wheezing, breathless, "last resort…"

"Which is?" Stiles inquired, his tone dripping with sarcasm and making me want to hit him for the umpteenth time.

Then, Derek, finally finding what he was looking for, held up a bone saw and said cryptically, "You're going to cut off my arm."

Okay, so, not cryptic. But morbid, surely. My eyes went wide, looking over at Stiles to see that he was primarily in shock by the instruction. I turned back towards Derek, hoping that he was joking.

"You're seriously asking a 16 year old to cut off your arm?" I highly protested. "A dumbass who can barely find the right end of a lacrosse stick to hold onto?"

Derek dropped the saw on the table, levelling me a vicious look. "You want to do it then?"

"How about we go to the _fucking hospital_." I snarled back at him. "Where there are people who specialize in amputations!"

"We don't have time!" He growled, turning and searching through the drawers again.

Stiles picked up the bone saw while he searched, turning it on briefly and putting it back down after it revved to life. "What if you bleed to death?"

"Fair point, which is why I'm still suggesting –"

"If you saying 'hospital' one more fucking time, I'm going to rip your head off." Derek threatened, tying a tourniquet around his bicep. Guess he found what he was looking for.

I was about to call him on the threat, when I realized that he probably wasn't bluffing. Just a hunch, but I had a feeling that he'd actually kill me if I kept getting in his way. I don't know if he had the strength to render my head from my body nor was I in the mood to find out.

"Fine, I won't say the 'H' word anymore." I said, admitting defeat on that front. "But what if you _do _bleed to death?"

"It'll heal, if it works!" He explained quite poorly, it was hard to understand him while he tied the rubber with his teeth. I walked around the table to give him a hand with that. He just glared at me.

"Oh you stop that." I exasperated, rolling my eyes.

Across the table, Stiles starting moaning a bit. "Look – I don't know if I can do this."

"Why not?" Derek snarled, finally letting me tie the stupid thing.

Stiles leaned down on the table, I could hear his heartbeat racing. "Well, because of the cutting through the flesh, the sawing of the bone, and especially the blood!"

Derek gave the kid a look of almost complete disbelief. "You _faint _at the sight of blood?"

"Will you stop being such an insensitive ass!" I yelled at Derek. "We're helping you, for God's sake, we didn't put this fucking bullet in your arm so if you could just –"

That's when I remembered that he got that bullet trying to protect me. _Shit_. I exhaled, patting my tie job and reaching for the bone saw myself. Resigning myself to the fact that I'd be the one chopping off Derek's arm. What's one more traumatic experience in my fucked up life. Better it be in mine then Stiles's.

"Fine." I said quite reluctantly. "I'll do it."

"Wait, what?" Stiles exclaimed, perking up considerably. "Oh thank God, I probably would've let him die because I couldn't –"

That didn't seem to please Derek, he grabbed hold of Stiles's collar and pulled him over the examination table. I almost intervened, but Stiles sort of deserved it. Him and Scott were way too comfortable with letting this man die.

But then Derek leaned away from his captive, turning away and almost heaving. I looked away quickly, not one to handle vomit well. Glad I never had kids. I heard it splat against the floor and I had to resist puking myself. I dared to inhale through the nose, gagging at the scent. More death, more – awfulness.

"Holy God, what the hell is that!" Stiles cried.

Derek's breathing just kept getting worse. "It's my body" _grunt_ "trying to heal itself."

My curiosity got the best of me there. I turned and looked at the puddle of black goo. Well, that certainly didn't look like vomit. That looked more like liquid gangrene. Either way, it was utterly disgusting. _There's that nauseous feeling again._

"My body doesn't heal like that." I chimed in, whilst trying to keep my lunch from resurfacing.

"And his isn't doing a very good job of it." Stiles added, sounding much like I did.

More wheezing, more panting, Derek looked up at us, his arm propped up on the table. "Now – you've got to do it now."

I shook my head, not knowing how I truly got involved in all of this. This was just – a guy. Derek Hale. Someone who lived in the remains of the house where his entire family died. Tall, dark, brooding. Grumpy as hell, no manners, ordered everyone around without cause or reason, and – I _cared_. I don't know why I gave a flying tuck about that asshole, but I did. This stupid thing in the pit of my stomach that told me to help this guy, no matter the cost. And if that meant slicing off a severely muscled arm, so be it. So I brandished the bone saw and placed it against Derek's arm, ready and willing to cut that sucker right off.

"Oh my God." Stiles whined in the background. "I can't watch this, I really can't."

I gave the kid a half-assed smirk. "You don't have to." I held the saw firm, about ready to flip the switch when –

"Stiles?"

"Scott!" Stiles replied in disbelief to the sound of his best friend's voice.

The puppy dog came bounding into room, totally unaware of what was happening. Just me, standing there, threatening to saw off a grown man's arm when I had absolutely no qualifications to do so. And I still don't.

"Hey kid!" I smiled up at him. "Wouldn't happen to have that bullet now would you?"

Scott couldn't respond, he was too overwhelmed by the whole scene in front of him. "Wh-what the hell are you doing!"

"Just your impromptu emergency amateur amputation." I joked, panic pulsing through me suddenly. "What're you up to?"

"You just prevented a lifetime of nightmares." Stiles piped in, relief clear in his goofy tone.

"Did you get it?" Derek asked, his situation only getting worse as time went on.

Scott reach into his pocket, pulling out a single rifle round. I could feel my previous anxiety washing away. If Derek said this bullet would save him, I believed it. And that just made everything right with the world.

Derek took the bullet from him, brought it to eyelevel, and tried to focus his gaze on it. I already knew that he was going to conk out any minute. He lost way too much blood. I was surprised that he was able to stand up straight for as long as he did. But, of course, Humpty Dumpty came tumbling down. And, apparently, I was the King's men in this instance.

"Shit!" I swore, dropping the saw and following Derek to the ground while Scott chased the bullet as it bounced across the floor.

Stiles was next to me suddenly, looking as panicked as I was. "Is he okay?"

"Does he look okay?" I asked, trying not to glare at the kid. "How about we shoot you and let _you _bleed out all over the tiles!"

"I didn't mean –"

"Hey, c'mon Derek!" I cooed, ignoring Stiles and slapping Derek's face lightly. "You said that you didn't want to die and the last thing you hear was my annoying voice! That's about to come true if you don't get uuuuup!"

Beside me, Stiles was freaking out. "Scott, what the hell are we going to do?"

"I don't know!"

I was still lightly trying to coax Derek awake. "Seriously, you've gotta get up! Get up _now!_"

"He's not waking up!" Stiles continued to shout. "I think he's dead!"

"Stiles!" I yelled at him. "Shut _up_, for the love of God!"

Still, Scott desperately tried to get the bullet as it had rolled underneath one of the tables. I tried to wake Derek up, I really did. The light slapping had increased to a moderate slapping and was too seconds away from me just punching him square in the jaw. Looking back, I probably would've broken all of my fingers had I done that.

That's when I remembered – no. I couldn't do that. But something told me that I should. Looking down at him I don't know where the urge to kiss him came from. It wasn't romantic, it wasn't intimate, it felt more clinical. This would just be me helping out a patient and I'd feel like a nurse in a porno. I rolled my eyes and I just did it. I leaned over him and just – I did it.

"What the hell…?" Stiles muttered, probably just as confused as I was.

"I got it! I got it!" Scott exclaimed, climbing back onto his feet and heading our way.

I felt Derek stir underneath me, so I separated from him and – surprisingly – he was awake. I didn't know how that worked and I didn't care. I hooked an arm underneath him and stood him back up again, Scott handing him the bullet as I did.

Once he was standing, Derek took the bullet and – that's not sanitary. He put it in his _mouth_. More specifically in between his teeth, but still. He ripped the thing open and shook out all of the gunpowder. Although, I'll admit that it looked more like hemp than anything else. He gathered it into a pile, set it on fire with a lighter (curtesy of Oak Street Gas Station), brushed it into his hand, and then he – put it in his wound?

I don't know how that worked. Still don't. Still don't care!

He was screaming, next, falling to the ground in pain. My vision was getting blurry again, but Derek was clearly writhing in agony. His screaming, it just kept getting louder, and then it turned into something much more – _did he just growl?_ Perhaps it was my senses getting all muddled again, but they cleared up quickly and I was still hearing that growl. The black veins protruding from Derek's arm, they were quickly cleansed by unknown forces, and he looked right as rain. You'd never know that five seconds ago he was going to die.

"That. Was. _Awesome!_" Stiles exclaimed, causing me to slap him upside the head.

I rushed to Derek's side, as neither of the others did and I helped him stand best I could. The guy was built like a rock. I half expected him to simply brush me aside, but he gave me a look that bordered on grateful. Bordered. He still looked like he was pissed beyond all compare. That's just Derek's face, though. Can't really hold that against him.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked, like a dumbass.

"What, except for the agonizing pain?" Derek retorted, going to retrieve his shirt when I stopped him.

"That thing smells like death, how about not." I smiled softly, half-joking. Mostly not.

"I'm assuming his ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health." Stiles interjected, causing Derek to glare at him to the fullest of his ability.

"Okay, we saved your life." Scott said, even though he was nowhere to be found when it came to chopping off Derek's arm. "Which means you're going to leave us alone, you got that? A-and if you don't, I'll go back to Allison's dad and tell him everything!"

I looked at the kid, confused by what Allison or her father had anything to do with this. "What're you talking about –"

I didn't expect it, I really didn't. A large amount of force was struck against the back of my neck and I was falling. But, someone caught me, and then said "Stiles, take her home." I didn't know what was going on. I just assumed that it wasn't good. The arms that held me though, goddammit I felt safe in them. This was starting to piss me off. Derek Hale was starting to become the center of my life. Despite the fact that he karate chopped my neck.

* * *

**Author's Note: Lord this chapter is long. Any advice on how to split it, much appreciated! Also yes! Brooke calling Chris _Jim _was entirely intentional. She's sort of silly like that, and currently in the story she doesn't know the Argent's, she only knows Allison. But mostly because she's silly. xoxo, Momma Love**


	11. Chapter Eleven: Professor Lupine

**Monkey Meets Wolf**

**Chapter Eleven: Professor Lupine**

* * *

_Apparently dream-Brooke had it right on the money. Happy fucking day._

* * *

_These are puppy kisses. I feel puppy kisses!_

I managed to crack open my eyes and true enough, I was right. There was this little cutie standing on my chest, licking my face incessantly. Kipper. He was completely back to normal and I couldn't've been happier. I sat up, squeezing my puppy in a tight hug, glad to have him back in my life. In the midst of me being so giddy, I didn't notice Derek standing in my doorway. And when I did, I practically fell out of bed.

"Jesus Christ, Derek!" I yelled, hyperventilating only slightly. "Were you raised in a barn? You don't just go around inviting yourself into people's houses like this!"

He simply crossed his arms, not really giving two fucks about what I was saying. "I heard him in the kennel. He wanted to see you."

He must've been referring to Kipper who'd actually jumped off of the bed and trotted over to Derek. He was actually, jumping. He wanted attention from the brooding guy and I half expected Derek to kick him across the room. Much to my disbelief, Derek crouched down, scratching the pup behind the ears and ushering him out of the room. To which Kipper complied wholeheartedly.

"You need to teach me that trick." I laughed, still not believing my puppy could be that complacent.

Derek almost smiled, almost. "Technically you already know it. You just need to learn how to use it."

I rolled my eyes at the guy, not believing his tripe. "I'm sure you didn't break into my house to give me tips on how to discipline my pup."

He gave a curt nod, standing back up and resuming his post. "What do you remember about what happened tonight?"

"You mean the whole 'we're going to have children amputate arms' deal?" I asked quite sarcastically. "I remember most of it. All of it, really."

"What about the car ride?" He continued to prod. He was searching for something.

I arched a brow at him, suddenly realizing what he was probably referring to. "You mean when you planted one on me while I was mostly unconscious? I'm pretty sure that's sexual assault or whatever the hell it is."

"Do you know why I did it?" He asked, ignoring my slight accusation.

I shrugged, noting that I was all nice and tucked into bed. "I assume it wasn't because you were severely deprived of female touch. Or male touch. Whatever tickles your fancy."

He almost laughed. Again, almost. "No. It wasn't."

"Care to elaborate then?" I decided to press on, since he's the one who brought it up in the first place.

He didn't look like he actually wanted to talk about it, but also like he didn't have much of a choice in the matter. I crossed my legs underneath my sheet and patted the bedspread, signaling for him to plant it. He obliged, albeit a bit hesitantly. Sinking down into my mattress he looked particularly broody. More so than usual.

I sighed, rolling my neck and looking at him. "Why don't we just – talk about something simpler? Why did the gunpowder magically heal your wound?" _See? Simple._

Not really looking at me, he seemed ready to tell me that much. "It wasn't gunpowder, not entirely. It was mostly monkshood."

I arched a brow at him, not able to help it. "You were being killed by a plant?"

"Yes." He replied, serious as can be.

That unsettled me, actually. "Is it poisonous? Is that the deal?"

"In large doses it can make anyone sick." He informed me. "But to people like me – like us – it's deadly even in the smallest amounts."

_Like us? _"What do you mean?"

He was back to looking like he wasn't going to tell me anything. Maybe that was also just his face, but I didn't think so. This was some serious shit he was about to throw at me, I just knew it. Wasn't really in the mood for life altering crap, that didn't mean I couldn't handle it.

"Monkshood has a different name it's known by." He continued in a rather cryptic manner. "Maybe you'll understand better if I just –"

"For the love of God, Derek." I exasperated, not one for beating around the bush. "Just spit it out already."

With that he turned back into his old self. Grumpy. Spouting only one word, "Wolfsbane."

I blinked for a minute, that word sounded pretty familiar to me. And when the connection was made, I slapped my forehead with my palm. "You're telling me that you're a freaking werewolf?"

He didn't seem too shocked by the sudden realization, but he probably was. "And that sounds sane to you?"

I groaned, falling back against my pillow and thrashing a bit. "It was just a dream. And in it I said to myself, "Wow, geewizz. That monster looks a lot like Remus Lupin when he turned into a werewolf in Harry Potter!" I thought I was just being a nut. Now I know I was right – wait." I sat up suddenly. "Are you telling me that _I'm _a werewolf? That both of us are?"

He nodded and I almost lost it. Not really. I just laid back down and groaned even louder than before. I pressed my palms into my eyes, wanting this whole nightmare to finally dissipate. It'd been going on for weeks. Hadn't it tormented me enough?

I relaxed, letting my arm fall out to my side. "Then, Scott's one too? You said that I was like both of you."

"Yes." Derek nodded. "The one who bit you also bit him."

I sighed, swinging my other arm over my eyes. "My life just keeps getting better and better. So those midnight treks through the woods in my birthday suit is part of the whole deal, I assume?"

"Yes."

"And the fact that I can still sort of smell Scott even though he lives half a town away?"

"Yes. Also because he's part of your pack."

I sighed some more, still waiting for me to wake up from this dream. "So, I take it this _Alpha_ is what – who – bit me."

"How'd you know –"

"When you got shot, the chick was talking about an Alpha. I assume I'm like a regular ol' wolf now in a regular ol' pack. There's an Alpha and no one challenges him. That sort of deal."

"Yes."

I propped myself up on my elbows. "How do you know so much about this crap? I'm taking it that you weren't just bitten like me and the kid."

"I was born this way."

_I'm on the right track baby, I was born this way!_ "Give me a second so I can work all this out so I can stop asking you all of these questions. I'm sure you have better things to do then break in the new wolf recruit… please don't break me."

I sat there momentarily, piecing together the fact that that woman had special werewolf killing bullets, doubt that was a coincidence, she was related to other people who seemed to have a disdain for Derek for no reason I could tell. Werewolf hunters, probably. His whole family, probably werewolves. Probably no accident that they were all burned alive. There was also the whole massive healing thing he did in the blink of an eye after neutralizing the wolfsbane. I'd assume that was also a werewolf thing. Also Kipper. The boy was probably freaking out because I suddenly started smelling like not-mommy.

"Okay, I'm going to just shoot off everything I've sort of gathered in these past couple minutes." He nodded his accordance. "Alright. The chick who shot you up and her brother, werewolf hunters. Only thing that really makes sense. I assume the rest of your family were a bunch of werewolves too, so that's why they were roasted in the Hale House fire. Massive healing factor because of wolfness – though I don't have that so maybe not…"

He held his hand up to stop me momentarily. He reached for my arm, undoing the bindings and exposing my arm to the stale air of my bedroom. I looked up at him, curious as to what he was doing. He was just looking back at me.

"Tell it to heal."

I cocked my head to the side. "What?"

"The healing process is different for you." He explained rather poorly. "It won't happen automatically, you have to will it."

I levelled him a look of pure disbelief. "And how do I do that? Just yell at it?"

He gave me a look right back. A nasty one. "Concentrate on it and think about healing."

I rolled my eyes but decided to go along with the nutter. I stared at my arm and used the Force to tell it to heal. Or if you wanted to go the Eragon route, _HALE!_ Wait a minute, that's sort of funny. It's probably not spelled like that but that's what it sounded like. But, low and behold in the midst of my internal ramblings, my arm healed. Completely. Leaving me sort of staring at it like a royal buffoon.

"You're telling me that I've been able to do that for weeks?" I asked, still entirely dumbfounded by the whole thing. Or just plain dumb. Both are very plausible.

"Yes."

Not really enjoying the headache this was bringing on, I pressed my palms back into my eye sockets. "I take it this isn't all, but just – don't bring up the kissing crap. I don't know why you did it or why _I _did it, but I feel like that a whole other load of crazy that I'm not ready for."

He just nodded, so I looked out the window and stared at the one question I was too dumb to ask. I practically kicked myself, realizing I was ever more moronic than I previously believed.

"Jesus Christ." I muttered to myself, shaking my head and running a hand through my hair. "I take it that at the next full moon I'm going to change into some monster? Wolfman, perhaps? Or is it going to be more of a Remus Lupin sort of werewolf?"

He almost chuckled, again. "Neither. Our werewolf forms appear very human, usually."

I couldn't help but stare at him, and _not _because he was very attractive. "If you haven't really _seen _this Alpha up close, I'll let you know that he looks very Reyes to me." He gave me an odd look. "The werewolf pack second-in-command in Underworld."

He nodded, making the connection. "Every werewolf is different. Besides, you're a Beta, you won't be getting that large."

I sighed in relief. "Good. I can barely walk on these two feet. I don't want to think about how it would feel to walk around on paws."

"Easier than you might think." He joked. Actually _joked_.

"Derek told a funny, someone call the ledger." I chuckled to myself.

He quickly wiped that joking look off his face, though I could still see it. "The rest you'll learn as you go. Scott's learning just like you are."

"Are you going to be the absent-teacher type?" I asked, a mischievous grin on my face.

He didn't acknowledge that. But I saw a ghost of a smile before he turned and headed out the door. I was growing on the guy. Like a fungus. A grease monkey fungus. That – ew. I think I puked a little in my mouth just now.

"Remember to lock the door on your way out!" I called after him.

After I heard the nice loud _clunk_ of the deadbolt, I smiled. Laying back down just so Kipper could jump on top of me. He curled up beside me, as he used to do before he went nuts. I never did ask about the Kipper situation, but I assumed I was right on the money. He'd returned to normal. And as I pet him, I eventually drifted off. _I fucking deserved a good night's rest._

* * *

**Author's Note: More pop-culture references. Brooke's known for that (so am I). And, yes, the chapter title was entirely intentional. xoxo, Momma Love**


	12. Chapter Twelve: It's Time to Begin

**Monkey Meets Wolf**

**Chapter Twelve: It's Time to Begin**

* * *

_Every heroine should have a soundtrack. And here's the chase scene._

* * *

I mostly wandered around my house for the next couple of days. Took off from work, relaxed a bit, sat around surfing the web, and got caught up on Supernatural. With luck, I didn't cry too much watching the blasted show. That's a lie. I was sobbing for most of it. It was much like how I started out this story, sitting on the couch with Kipper curled up in my lap, and eating mint chocolate chip ice cream watching TV. Things had returned to normal. For the most part.

The only difference between then and now, aside from the fact that I'd been turned into a werewolf (that still hadn't sunk in at that point), Derek. He'd check up on me several times a day, to which I'd promptly throw a shoe in his direction and yell, "Get out of my house you rift raft!"

Now, I'd never actually see him. First I'd smell him, and then I'd see something shift in my peripherals, and then came the show chucking. Kipper was just getting worse and worse as a guard dog. Didn't even respond to intruders. He'd probably go up to one and beg him for a treat. Useless little adorable thing. Why do I keep him around again?

Anyways, after those days I went back to work. Since I'd been off so long I was saddled with the night shift, figures. I was mopping the floor after everyone had left, my earbuds nestled nicely into my ear, a favorite song playing, and maybe I was dancing just a little bit.

"_Now don't you understaaaand, that I'm never changing who I am._"

While I danced I used my mop as both a micstand and a dance partner. Oak Street Gas was my stage and I was working it. I wasn't working it _well_, persay, but I did my best. And no one was watching so I didn't particularly care how good I looked. I was just having a bit of fun. I deserved a bit of fun after my whole life went fuck-up.

When sirens sounded in the distance, I pulled out my earbuds and peered out the door, watching the line of police cars wiz down Oak Street. _Probably another "mountain lion" attack_. I told myself, reaching for the lock subconsciously, ensuring that it was, indeed, locked. I don't think that a thin pane of glass was going to stop the Alpha, let me be delusional for a minute.

I went back to mopping, careful not to put my headphones back in. I thought that maybe if I pretended that nothing was happening then that wish would come true. It hasn't happened yet but I'm still trying. By that point though I was just pushing wet dirt around. I was too busy trying to ensure my safety to really concentrate on cleaning the grossness off the tiles. When I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eyes I half reached for my phone, ready to call Derek at a moment's notice.

Determining that is was nothing, something fell over in the back. It sounded like a paint can though I couldn't be sure. I grabbed hold of my mop like I was wielding a bat (or a lacrosse stick). I started to push open the swinging doors when something grabbed hold of my collar and pulled me back, ripping my flesh and sending me crashing through a couple of chip racks. When I say collar, I mean my physical collar. Not my shirt, not my neckline, the actual bone.

I looked up, brushing bags of Doritos off of me. It was the Alpha, alright. Didn't even need eyes to know that. The guy smelled like burning flesh it was more than mildly entirely disgusting. I scrambled to my feet and ran right for the door, fumbling with the lock for only a moment before I was free from Oak Street Gas and running for the tree line. Not my best move. Hide from a werewolf in the woods. My instinct just told me that's where I should go.

Weaving in and out of trees and brush, I called Derek in the hopes that he could give me some lupine guidance from over the phone. "Pick up you goddamn grump!"

"What." He sneered, probably realizing it was me and being irritated by my presence.

"Hey, sorry to bother you, but I need a crash course – sorry Bambi – crash course in how to turn into a werewolf or whatever!" I exasperated, dodging a baby deer and trying not to fall on my face.

"Where are you?" He asked, sounding more than a bit concerned for my well-being.

The Alpha managed to grab hold of my sleeve, ripping it off and phasing me for a minute. "Running around in the woods with a werewolf on my tail! I'm probably too far away for you to do much good, so a quick lesson would be nice!"

Derek hesitated momentarily before saying, "You need to get angry. Really angry."

"Can you get any more specific beyond 'feel a certain emotion' please?" I groaned, narrowly avoiding a swipe of the Alpha's claws. "It's not like my life's on the line or anything!"

"_**You won't get away**_."

Nothing like a voice from hell to kick you into gear! I stopped bothering with the whole "sense" thing. I just did what felt right. And apparently what felt right was planting my foot on a tree, running up it a couple of steps before kicking off and landing behind the Alpha. Quickly I turned on my heel, bolted in the other direction, and decided to pay more attention to the guy I was on the phone with.

"Alright, so, instructions!" I repeated, feeling a bit winded after that little spectacle. At least I put some distance between us.

"Your sister Amber." He noted cryptically, his tone serious as it could be. "Think of everything she's ever said or done to piss you off. Everything she said about James, about you, about people you care about."

That, it actually worked. Amber had done a lot of shit to me so I shouldn't've been surprised. I'll tell you about it later. Time and place.

I felt – odd. Turning into a werewolf it was – not natural. Obviously. I'd been human for the past 20 some odd years, becoming an entirely different subspecies should've thrown me for a loop. I felt my jaw expand, accommodating a set of teeth I felt poking out of my gums. Disgusting. The beds of my fingernails tightened and then loosened, and then finally the nails themselves morphed into claws. I didn't feel overly wolfy apart from that whole deal. I just felt weird.

Anyways, the wolf in me kicked into action, or whatever. I figured that the Alpha used his mighty sniffer to track me down, so I had to either be faster than him, or go somewhere he couldn't. Taking a sharp right, I looked up at the trees, deciding that "up" was really the only option I had. I rolled up my sleeves, put my phone in my mouth (sorry Derek), and leapt at a particularly thin cedar, my nails digging into the bark and helping me ascend the trunk.

These trees were a bit too thin for normal climbing, branches were feeble and in mass quantity. The Alpha would have to de-werewolf to get up like I did. He was just too much of a hulking mess. And as I reached the top of the tree I latched onto, I looked down, causing a smile to break out across my face.

My dumb ass plan? It worked. Go me!

But this wasn't a time for celebrating. That's how the baddies catch up with you again. I quickly jumped to another tree, securing my hold and jumping for another. Looking behind me I saw that the Alpha had given up on climbing and was back on the ground once more. So I took my phone out of my mouth and held it to my ear, standing on a branch and propping myself up against the trunk.

"Still there?" I asked, half expecting him to have hung up already.

"Yes." He replied quite curtly.

I laughed a bit in disbelief. "I think I just outsmarted the Alpha."

"I'll come and get you." He said, hanging up the phone and leaving me with silence.

I pocketed my phone and looked around once more to see if I was truly in the clear. Couldn't see the Alpha, that was good. I sniffed the air, wondering if I could still make out his scent – yup. He was still out there somewhere. I carefully began to descend, hopping from tree to tree like a lithe little ballerina. Or, I tried. I had a couple of clodhoppers.

When something wrapped itself around my ankle, I swore loudly. It rhymed with truck. I was promptly yanked towards the ground, coming into contact and snapping a few branches along the way. Finally, he just simply dropped me. The height wasn't so bad that I'd be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life, but I rolled out of the landing expertly – right into a tree. So, if you counted the massive bruise I'd have on my side, there was another on my – other side.

The Alpha stalked over to me while I was clutching my sides in agony. I told myself to heal, like Derek had shown me earlier, but I wasn't healing fast enough. He grabbed hold of me, tossing me onto my back and ripping off my camisole. _No. I am _not_ getting raped in the woods by a fucking werewolf! _When he came in for another swipe, my wolf reflexes kicked in and I _kicked _him in the shin. He snarled, giving me enough time to roll over backwards and for – Derek to emerge from the woods.

"Oh thank Gandhi." I breathed, watching my savior take out the brute trying to rip into me. Literally. Ugh, I still shiver when I think about that.

Once Derek managed to neutralize the Alpha significantly he ran back towards me, gearing me back into action and running alongside him. We headed back through the woods, checking over our shoulders to make sure we weren't being followed. When we felt we were in the clear we made a B-line for my house.

Didn't take long to get there with our werewolf speeds. We came to a halt, allowing me to unlock the door without rushing. A rare occurrence in those days. I let Derek in and shut the door behind him, locking it for good measure and plopping down on my couch. Kipper was on my lap almost as soon as my butt hit cushion. Dumb little thing.

"Welcome to Casa de Brooke." I said, exhaustion clear in my voice. "You've already been here a dozen or so times, but this time I invited you in so yay for you!"

He didn't appear to be amused by my silly antics. I snickered, propping my feet up on the coffee and remembering something – I was sort of half-naked. Sports bra clad with a torn up flannel draped over my shoulders. I suppose I wasn't any worse off than the Beacon Hills cheerleaders, but I wasn't one for flaunting the goods.

"Excuse me while I become more presentable." I offered before I stood up, irritating Kipper, and trudging off towards my bedroom.

Once Derek and I were separated by plaster and wood, I finally started to fully register what'd happened to me. I turned into a _werewolf_. I had fangs, I had claws, I could run faster than ever before, I'm supernatural. There was no denying it anymore. What's more – there felt like there was a piece of me missing. And I felt better for it. It didn't make any sense and I didn't dwell on it any longer. I pulled on the first thing I saw – which were pants so I decided to grab a shirt – and returned to my living area where Derek had occupied my spot on the couch.

I sighed, ruffling my hair and heading over to the kitchen. "You want a beer?"

"Sure." He barely audited, he was far too busy petting my pup to really speak up.

I grabbed a couple of Coronas from the fridge and tossed one over to him. He caught it easily, using the edge of my coffee table to crack it open. I would've chastised him for it, but I'd done the same thing a hundred times. Wouldn't really be fair if I decided to yell at him for it. I settled for using a bottle opener, call me old fashioned, and I started to down the alcohol as it was just one of those days.

"So, Alpha." I started, wanting to get something off my chest so I could promptly forget about it. "Any reason why he'd want me naked in the woods?"

"Yes." Derek responded, being completely useless as always.

"Care to elaborate then?" I asked quite incredulously, taking a quick swig. "Either that or show me where I can get a werewolf sized taser."

I think I was starting to recognize the look on Derek's face when he was trying not to laugh. "You said you didn't want to know about the "kissing" deal."

"They're related?" I continued, sitting at the arm of the couch.

He nodded, taking a drink from his beer. "Yes."

I waited for him to go on, but he didn't. So I just rolled my eyes and leaned back. "And you're not telling me because?"

"It's too soon to know for sure." He admitted rather honestly, finishing his beer quickly and standing, making to leave.

I sighed, receiving a startled Kipper who'd returned to my lap. "Alright, Mr. Brooding. I'll take that with a grain of salt. But I expect an explanation before I end up carrying a litter of puppies in my belly against my will. If that happens first, I get to kick your ass."

He nodded, that ghost of a smirk creasing his gorgeous face. "Thanks for the beer."

I gave him a bit of a cheeky smile. "Anytime. And I'm not kidding. If you knock on my door I'll probably let you in. You don't have to keep lurking in the shadows."

With one more nod in accordance, Derek unlocked the door and slipped out into the night.

Finally alone I picked Kipper up in my arms and moved back towards the kitchen for food. Something about running like hell from a monster just made me hungry. I pulled out a pack of lunch meat and started eating it. No bread, no mustard, no nothing else. I'm not the type of person to eat food how it's meant to be eaten. Took too long to make a whole sandwich and I was hungry _now_.

I had a few bites of that before I threw it back in the fridge (and after feeding Kipper a bite) and headed off to bed. I was exhausted. And I'd have to wake up early to take care of the mess I left at the gas station. I really couldn't give any more cause for Pam to worry about me. I think she'd hit the Brooke-worry limit long before all that and yet, there I was. Getting attacked by werewolves and God knows what else. At least I'm safe in my dreams right?

* * *

**Author's Note: Heehee! Alright! We've pretty much caught up to what I've already written. I'm completely scrapping several chapters from _A Grease Monkey's Tale_, primarily the fire, and Brooke being there to snip at Chris and - Allison's mom. I forget her name. And thank you L. ! I'm not kidding, _thank you_. I've been waiting for someone to tell me "A Grease Monkey Tale" wasn't good. Because I always felt it! But all I heard was raining praise for it! Ugh! This made me so happy! Am I weird? Anyways! Chapter Thirteen is done, but trying to figure out where to go after that! I need to rewatch the show now, I'm pretty sure. Read and review, I love all of you! xoxo, Momma Love**


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Violent Violets

**Monkey Meets Wolf**

**Chapter Thirteen: Violent Violets**

* * *

_They weren't exactly violets. These were something far more dangerous._

* * *

That night I had a dream. It was of this guy, a fairly attractive guy, but it wasn't one of those dreams. I don't have those often. Still, I had to take a cold shower after this one, like the one of Derek ravishing me in my bed. So maybe they weren't too different. But they were. The guy though, he was someone quite prominent in my life. I just didn't know it yet. He had windswept chestnut brown hair, blue eyes, tall, nice frame, he was quite the looker. He was sitting on the porch of an elegant white estate, watching a slew of children play off towards the tree line.

There was this smile on his face, like he couldn't've been happier. It was a soft expression, gentle, kind, one of pure unadulterated bliss. A woman came up behind him, a tall woman with long black hair that reached past her shoulders. Something was a bit off with her, but he was happy to see her none the same. She placed a hand on his shoulder and he reached for it, appreciating the gesture. The two looked so comfortable with each other. Not quite intimate but something much more profound. _Family_.

Distracted by the woman, the man barely noticed that the children had come barreling towards him. He picked up the smallest boy, standing as he did, lifting him high in the air and twirling around in a circle. The boy giggled gleefully, calling the man "uncle". When one of the girls tugged on his pant leg, he gently put down the boy and kneeled beside the girl. In her hands was a flower crown, clovers and buttercups, entwined around a vine of purple flowers. It was beautiful. Truly beautiful. He took the crown and placed it on her head, deeming that it was better suited for her than for him.

The children ran back, giggling gleefully, something not quite right with them either. The man didn't seem to notice. He simply stood slowly and regarded the kids affectionately. He watched them play, climbing the trees and tossing the autumn leaves into the air. Everything was right with the world, positively wonderful. But upon turning back towards the woman, he realized he couldn't have been more wrong.

She was on fire.

Flames reached up and tickled her lithe frame, eating at her clothes and singeing her skin. He tried to reach for her, desperate to get to her yet finding that he was unable to move. Invisible chains bound him where he stood, preventing him from helping her, allowing him only to watch as one of the most important people in his life succumbed to a fiery death.

He turned sharply, hoping that the children weren't watching. He could handle the trauma, they surely could not. They weren't looking in their direction, of course. They were chasing each other, flames licking at their heels, engulfing them, and yet they laughed. Dancing, playing, burning, dying, they were joyous beyond compare. In the girl's hair, her flower crown disintegrated, purple petals falling, following, reduced to ash.

Their faces – that's when he realized. They didn't _have _faces. It was as if someone had pulled the skin from their chins and stretched it all the way to their scalps. The sight was unnerving, to say the least. The woman, her face was just the same. Complete nothingness. He reached out for her, finally able to move, a purple petal landing delicately in his hand. Confused, conflicted, he gazed at the petal, his skin turning black underneath its touch. The decay crawled up his arm, causing him more pain than he'd ever felt before. Gripping his forearm, he screamed. It was loud, long, and it reverberated through the forest until –

I woke up.

Immediately I was running for the bathroom, taking the toilet in my arms and emptying the contents of my stomach into it. I'd made myself some nice stir-fry for dinner that night. _Poof_. It was gone. This wasn't like the other day when I just couldn't stop puking, just a couple of pukes and I was done. Feeling like the tank was empty, I stood, ripping off a few sheets of toilet paper and wiping the corners of my mouth with it.

The shirt I was wearing was clinging to me with my own sweat. Gross. I started to pull it off of me when I realized that it was coming off of me much easier than it should have, in threads. Something had clawed open my shoulder pretty good. Don't know why I didn't notice the blood everywhere, but I didn't. I just simply ripped my shirt the rest of the way off to regard the three distinct claw marks that'd dug out the crook of my neck and a bit of my chest. Again, blood everywhere. Still didn't really notice.

I probed at the wounds gently, wincing and inhaling sharply through my teeth. Even the skin that wasn't ripped open was tender. Surely it would bruise – and it already was. I sighed loudly, combing a bloody hand through my hair. Still didn't notice the blood. I looked back up in the mirror. _Man, I look like hell_.

My skin was paler than pale, practically ghost white, dark circles under the eyes, nearly black as coal, and some werewolf action going on in the ocular department. I opened mouth and examined my sharpened teeth, pulling down my lip and finally realizing that there was blood all over me. About damn time.

"Jesus _shit_." I swore, peering back into my room and gauging how bad it was in there. Looked like a murder house in there. _Guess who's doing laundry today!_

I worked on cleaning up the wound, telling myself to heal and getting exceedingly frustrated when that wasn't working. Made me feel human all over again. And also made me realize how much being human sucked. I _really _loved all of the shedding, the incessant need to pee on things I wanted, the drooling I couldn't see to control, and the desire to scoot my ass across the floor. That, my friends, is what James taught me to be verbal irony.

By the time I'd gotten my recent battle scar all taken care of I pulled on a dirty shirt from the floor and I worked on the mess I made. Once I had my bed striped and brought all of the blood soaked shit into the garage and into the washer, it was probably mid-morning. I wasn't too worried about the state of my sheets. Years of being a woman that bleeds from her crotch prepared me for all sorts of things. Including blood soaked sheets. A good trick to have when a psychotic werewolf was on your ass.

I was just about ready to grab a bucket of cold water to attack my bloodied mattress when I heard my backdoor get kicked in. Honestly, I probably should've been more shocked, or at least acted like it, but I was running out of energy to be surprised.

"You better not've wrecked the hinges!" I yelled into the other room, rolling up my sleeves and climbing onto the bed, scrub brush in hand.

I heard something get knocked over and I knew that my mattress would have to wait. I dropped the brush and I ran out into the living room, noting that Derek was leaning against the counter, knocking off some dirty dishes I'd left out. _Never a dull day_. I told myself before heading over to him and helping him stand.

"Jesus, Derek." I groaned, pulling his arm over my shoulder and guiding him to the couch. "I should probably just give you a key, shouldn't I? Who am I kidding, you still wouldn't use it."

He didn't respond, just grunted in pain as he practically fell onto the couch. Rolling onto his back I noticed these long cylindrical wounds spattered all over his bare torso. I fell to my knees, dusting my fingers over them, trying to figure out what'd caused them.

Ready to go and get something, ice or a cold cloth, Derek fisted my shirt, his eyes glowering at me. "What happened?"

He was referring to my gashes, but I didn't care. I swatted his hand away and went for the wet cloth. Sometimes it was honestly better to ignore him just as he did so many others. It really wasn't important, the claw marks. Not when they'd already scabbed over and Derek's injuries were still fresh. I returned with the cold cloth, pressing it against the marks while trying not to get distracted by his rippling muscles. I love muscles. And ones that ripple are just the bee's knees.

"So." I started, not really looking him in the chest – eye. "Who'd you piss this early in the morning?"

He let out a low snarl, making me laugh a little. But he didn't reply.

I couldn't help rolling my eyes. "C'mon. If you're going to be using my house as your escape pod I might as well know who you're running from."

Those green eyes of his narrowed at me. "You won't tell me what caused those scratches."

"Fine." I conceded. "Looks like this is going to be a super special no-sided conversation."

I stood, returning to the kitchen and grabbing a beer out of the fridge and cracking it open for myself. Derek would heal, it wasn't my issue. I leaned over the sink and looked out the window, thinking what a beautiful morning it was despite the unwanted guest. I exhaled laboriously. Nothing in my life was going to be simple anymore.

I was about to turn and address him when I noticed that he was right in front of me, glaring down at me with those pale green eyes of his. Ignoring the small heart attack I was having, that gaze was super sexy.

"C'mon, Derek." I breathed, patting him on the chest and trying to coax him away (to no avail). "Rule one of the Summers house, no heart attacks."

He grabbed my hand then, his gaze travelling towards my shoulder. "What happened."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes, trying to swat him away again. Still no luck. He was still standing there, his gaze trying to bore holes into me. I couldn't meet his gaze – it was too heated. It made me feel a little hot under the collar – okay, more than a little hot. I furiously raked a hand through my hair, trying to ignore the look he was giving me.

"Jesus, Derek." I groaned, glaring up at him and taking a swig of beer. "You've got to stop looking at me like that. I'm not a piece of meat."

He fisted at my sleeve, pulling it down off of my shoulder and looking at the nasty gash made there. Carefully, he grazed his fingers over the scabs and the bruises forming beneath them. I tried not to wince underneath the touch, I really did, but I think I failed there. This deep snarl reverberated in his chest, threatening to burst forth and swallow me whole.

"It's just a scratch." I tried to placate him.

"Just a scratch?" He questioned, sneering at me almost. "Then why hasn't it healed?"

_That's actually a fair point_. "I don't know, Derek. Why don't you tell me?"

My tone _was _very snide, and he didn't seem to appreciate that. And – _shit I've been looking into his eyes for too long_.

There was something stirring inside of me, and not the usual ladybits stirring when hot guys give you their best look. I was blaming the werewolf side of me. It was the cause of so many problems lately. And today it decided to set my loins ablaze. But that seriously wasn't it. Something wanted out. Wanted _him_. It confused me beyond all possibility, and I was scared of what would happen.

"Derek –" I started, almost breathless. "You should go."

Despite saying that, he took a step closer. His scent wafting up into my nostrils and settling there, refusing to leave. I – I almost moaned. There was something seriously wrong with me. I looked back up at him, my gaze drifting towards his lips and – _no. Horny Brooke. Stop it._ I firmly planted a hand on his chest to push him away – and immediately regretted it. Those muscles were _fine_.

I don't know what came over me, I really don't – well, I do _now_, but I still don't understand it. Nothing in my life made sense and more and I didn't seem to give a damn. I moved my hand to cradle Derek's neck unconsciously, both of us closing that last bit of space between each other. We were both a bit sweaty and definitely a lot hot. I pulled him down to me suddenly, our lips meeting for the first time when we were both fully conscious and, Andraste preserve me, it was glorious.

He tasted like what a woman thinks hot and dirty sex should taste like. I can't believe I just wrote that, but it's true. It's _really _true. God, he was musky and spicy and everything else a sexless widow could wish for. He took the beer from my hand and placed it on the counter before bracing himself against the sink, leaning into me and returning my kiss with another layer of passion slathered on top. There was no toeing the edge of making out, we were legit making out. _Ugh, I've missed this._

My other hand started moving on its own, discovering the taught muscles of Derek Hale, dusting over his biceps and down his forearm until it'd come to settle against his chest. I really wasn't thinking. All thought and rationale had left the building. But his tongue felt real great in my mouth and I don't know why I even bothered to resist in the first place. We both wanted some passion, whether it was serious or not, we didn't care, and there was nothing wrong with that.

He suddenly bit at my lower lip, bringing his hand up to hold onto my neck for leverage. As our mouths slid over each other, getting messier by the second, his thumb pressed ever so lightly against my pulse, causing my heart to race even harder. I broke away for a brief second, gasping, I cracked my eyes open only slightly to see Derek's glowing blue eyes gazing back at me in a haze. _God he's sexy_. I had my arms wrapped around his neck in the next instant, combing my fingers through his hair and pulling him back down into the kiss.

We remained like that for a good long while, our bodies pressed flush against each other with a slight grind going on. Our tongues constantly intertwining made me wonder if we'd ever be able to separate them, and perhaps I didn't want to. Oh who am I kidding? Of course I didn't. I'd be attached to Derek at the mouth if I had my way. Actually, maybe not. But close to it, I promise.

When his mouth tore from mine I audibly protested, a low whine that sounded like it belonged to Kipper, not me. He chuckled briefly before dipping down and kissing the underside of my jaw and travelling downwards to suck at the cord of my neck. _Oh sweet Maker._ My head fell back of its own accord as I felt the hickey start to form. And I truly didn't care. Didn't care about who saw, and maybe I'd be a little proud of it.

My legs started to give out then, weak to the pleasure, and almost as if sensing it himself, he wrapped an arm around me and hefted me up onto the counter. _God _I love the way I feel in that man's arms. I clutched at his back as his tongue thoroughly explored my mouth, like it hadn't been doing that already, when he put his hand back on the counter and knocked off a mug and I heard it hit the floor, shattering.

I chuckled against Derek's lips, smiling. "C'mon Derek, you have three rules in the Summers house, knock, no giving me a heart attack, and don't break the dishes while we're making out."

He let out an amused sound, what it was exactly I couldn't say, but he pried my mouth back out and we both reveled in the moment a bit longer before something started nagging at the back of my mind. _Summers? Why does that sound – what am I not remembering? There's something that I –_

James. I forgot _James_.

I couldn't get away from Derek fast enough after that. My eyes shot open and I pushed him away with more force than I probably intended. He was giving me the most confused look I'd ever seen on him, and all I could do was laugh dryly.

"Sorry, it's just – I'm a pretty awful person." I retorted, feeling the tears wetting the corners of my eyes. "I forgot about my dead husband while making out with another man in my dead husband's house. _Woo_. That really takes the cake there."

The understanding on Derek's face was evident, and he almost looked like he wanted to comfort me on it. Maybe. That could've just been post-make out haze playing tricks on my vision. I waved him off, hoping he'd get the hint that I needed some space and leave. Looking up at him, he was gone. I almost wanted to let out a sigh of relief, but a part of me wanted him back._ Most _of me wanted him back. Something about being in his arms just felt – right. Something I hadn't felt in a long time. And that scared me. _A lot._

* * *

**Author's Note: La di da di da, hot stuff. Not really, not details because I such at them. "Lips sliding over each other in passion" I don't do smutty well - if you ignore the Intermission. We're completely caught up! Maybe, if I sit down and punch this out, I'll get Chapter Fourteen done today. It's hard to do when you're cutting out a huge chunk of the story that was relatively extensive. Yeah, no fire. That was so weirdly placed and I totally forgot about it when thinking back on the story. See you in a couple of days, if we're lucky! xoxo, Momma Love**

**P.S. Thank you for Madame Argent's name! I knew it was Frenchy.**


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Fun with Balls

**Monkey Meets Wolf**

**Chapter Fourteen: Fun with Balls**

* * *

_Is it still technically child abuse if the child is 16?_

* * *

I was kicking myself over pushing Derek away for the next few days. Wouldn't you? There's some things that you just don't do in this world. You don't refuse the expensive caviar when a friend offers, you don't refuse a man buying you a drink at a bar, you don't refuse Valentine's Day clearance chocolates, and you don't refuse sexpots sucking on your face. And, so far, I'd refused everything but the chocolates. Well – I don't think I've ever been offered caviar. The point still stands.

But, I moved on. I couldn't wallow in my own self-pity forever. And I actually decided to do something about how I was living. I didn't want to be hung up on James forever, I really didn't. The first thing I did? I decided to call a realtor to go about putting my house onto the market. Living in a house with that many ghosts was doing nothing for my health, I was sure of it.

Next I tried to figure out how to best break it to Donny and Pam that I was quitting. Couldn't work at the garage because James's dad owned it, couldn't work at the gas station because of the same reason. And because his step-mom managed it. So I started filling out applications and sending them in to joints around town. A café, a diner, a restaurant, something different than what I'd been doing for six or more years. I loved being a mechanic but enough is enough.

I was actually spicing up my resume when I got a call from Stiles to come help Scott with some werewolf training. I hadn't actually heard from either of them for a few days so I hoped that the Alpha hadn't chewed off Scott's leg because he wanted to play fetch with it. I was told to meet them at the lacrosse field behind the school and be quick about it. So I borrowed my neighbor's bike without permission and went on my way.

"Hey guys." I greeted the knuckleheads as I swung one leg off the bike before it even stopped.

"You invited Brooke?" Scott asked his best friend, almost accused him.

Stiles nodded. "I might need her help."

"But she knows less about werewolf transformations than either of us do!" Scott complained, gesturing broadly to me to which I slapped his hand.

"Y'all need to stop talking about me like I'm not even here."

"Sorry." They both said sheepishly in unison.

Sifting through a bag and sitting down on a bench, Stiles pulled out some device attached to a strap. "Okay, put this on."

Scott looked down at the thing incredulously. "Isn't this one of the heart rate monitors for the track team?"

I lifted the strap with my hand, examining the little contraption. "Dude, these are a _lot _better than the ones that we used back in Rue de Fleur."

"You've used these before?" Scott asked, perking up a little bit.

I nodded. "But they practically electrocuted us at every turn so we barely used them."

Oh man, Scott paled like a son of a bitch.

"Brooke." Stiles interjected. "Not helping. Just put it on, I borrowed it, it's all good."

Scott levelled him a knowing look. "You mean stole it."

Keeping a straight face, Stiles replied with, "Temporarily misappropriated it. Coach uses it to monitor his heartrate with his phone while he jogs, you're going to wear it for the rest of the day."

Scott looked down at the device Stiles had pulled out of his pocket. "Isn't that Coach's phone?"

"_That_ I stole." He admitted.

I snorted, crossing my arms. "At least he's honest."

"Thank you." Stiles offered, smiling up at me.

"Why do you want me to wear this?" Scott asked, pulling us back to the actual matter at hand.

"Well, your heartrate goes up with you go wolf, right?" Something I'd noticed myself, actually. "When you're playing lacrosse, when you're with Allison –"

"Wait." I interrupted, looking Scott dead in the eye. "You haven't eaten Allison, have you?"

That seemed to knock him off his hinges temporarily. "What? No!"

"Whenever you get angry." Stiles continued, levelling me a look that told me to _shut it_. "Maybe learning to control it is tied to learning to control your heartrate."

Scott, fully recovered from my totally justified accusation, looked like he had some major gas going on. That grin wasn't natural. "Like the Incredible Hulk."

I couldn't help but snort. "Someone find a vat of green paint."

"Brooke." Stiles said, giving me that same look as before. "Still not helping."

"I'm like the Incredible Hulk." Scott continued to mutter to himself.

Stiles sighed, shaking his head a little. "Kind of like the Incredible Hulk."

"Nah." Scott insisted. "I'm like the Incredible –"

"Just shut up and put the strap on." Stiles interrupted, practically shoving the heart monitor at him. "Brooke and I need to get set up, so you just – walk out there. We'll be out in a minute."

Scott didn't look completely trusting of his hyperactive best friend, so I gave him a pat on the back to reassure him to the best of my ability. He trudged out there, looking back over his shoulder, probably trying to figure out what the hell was going through Stiles's head.

It was a good question, honestly. "So, what's the plan?"

Stiles gave me this kind of smirk that you couldn't help but return. "You have any pent up aggression?"

"You're asking the girl that's been chased around by a big hulking werewolf and full of self-loathing if she has any pent up aggression?" I asked before barking out a laugh. "You give me something to hit, and consider it hit."

I'm pretty sure Stiles was concerned for a moment, but he probably thought better than to bring it up. "Would you have a problem with pelting Scott with lacrosse balls?"

I blinked at him, and he probably took that to mean that I wasn't complacent. Oh, but I was. "Load me up."

Stiles grinned wide, pulling a roll of duct tape out of his bag and running out to Scott. He used the multitool to bind my fellow werewolf's wrists behind him. Maybe I wasn't completely okay with hitting someone who couldn't defend themself, but I'd get over it. I _really _needed to work out some issues. Mostly sexual ones. Ugh, sexual frustration is the _worst_. And you can quote me on that. I don't know why you would but that's beside the point.

"This isn't exactly how I wanted to spend my free period!" Scott called over his shoulder at us as Stiles rejoined me.

I smirked, twisting a lacrosse stick in my hands. "I don't know, this could be fun."

"Yeah, for you guys!" He continued.

"Alright!" Stiles exclaimed. "You ready?"

"No?"

I chuckled, scooping up one of the lacrosse balls from Stiles's bag and juggling it. "Like I said, it'll be fun, Scott!"

"See?" Stiles asked. "Why can't you be more positive like Brooke?"

"You guys are going to be using me for batting practice!" Scott persisted.

I tossed the ball up and caught it. "Hitting practice, very different."

As Scott groaned, Stiles further emphasized the point of our little excursion. "Remember, don't get angry."

I nodded. "It's only bruises, Scott!"

"Can you stop sounding so _happy _about all this!"

"Nope!"

With that, Stiles turned on some music and I let one rip, right into Scott's knees.

"I'm starting to think this is a really bad idea!"

"Stop jabbering!" I exclaimed. "Just focus on not getting angry!"

"Exactly, Brooke." Stiles commended before chucking a ball at Scott.

_Ouch! Right in the solar plexus!_

I let loose another one, right ribcage, Stiles did as well, left shoulder, with Scott grunting from the pain acting as an emphasis to the wondrous music playing through the air.

"Okay, that one – kind of hurt!"

Stiles picked up another ball, juggling it for a moment while instructing, "Quiet, remember? You're supposed to be thinking about your heartrate, alright? About staying calm."

I chuckled to myself, chucking a ball at our target seconds before Stiles followed suit. If Scott didn't have some decent sized welts after this, I'd truly know that the werewolf healing was molto magnifico.

Scott started muttering to himself as we pelted him over and over and over again, the beeping of Stiles's phone giving way to how high Scott's heartrate was truly getting. Incredible Hulk he may be, Bruce Banner he is not. Another good shot to the ribs and Scott was cursing like a mother hubber.

"Son of a _bitch!_" He swore, quite loudly, I might add.

Stiles looked down at the ball in his net, a grin on his face. "Y'know what, I think my aim's actually improving."

"I was going to mention that!" I said, patting Stiles on the shoulder. "I'm proud of you buddy!"

He grinned at me with that cute face of his. "Thank you, Brooke. Getting better every single day."

"You two _suck!_"

"Yeah, yeah, Scott." I practically yawned before turning to Stiles. "Here we are, helping out a friend, and what do we get? A lot of ungrateful snark."

"I wonder why!" Scott yelled in our direction.

Stiles peered down at his phone to gauge Scott's heartrate. "Ah bu bup! Don't get angry!"

"You're doing great, Scott!" I tried to encourage as I let loose a ball straight into his chin.

Another dozen or so balls from both of us (wow that sounded dirty), and I could smell it. That odd dog scent I can sometimes sense, usually only around Derek or Scott, and I took that to mean something of the werewolf nature was going on.

"Stiles, enough." I instructed him just as he let another ball rip.

"He needs to push through this." He tried to counter.

I pulled his stick down, shaking my head at him. "Enough."

Sure enough, out in the field, Scott had fallen, crouched over himself as he changed while his pulse skyrocketed. I dropped my lacrosse stick and ran out for him, putting a hand on his back and trying to soothe him from the anger. He ripped through the duct tape binding him, swiping out, and digging his nails into the mud beneath him.

And then, miraculously enough, he calmed himself down.

"There you go, kid." I commended him, giving him a couple more good pats to the back before I felt my butt vibrate. I ignored it, partially because the fellow werewolf crouched in front of me was by far the more pressing matter.

Stiles jogged over eventually, standing beside us with a completely unsure look on his face. "You started to change?"

I nodded, still staying by Scott's side. "Yeah, luckily only the field really suffered for it."

Breathing rather laboriously, Scott looked up at us. "From anger… but it – it was more than that. Th-the angrier I got – the stronger I felt."

"So it _is _anger, then?" Stiles asked. "Derek's right."

"Yeah, that's how he got me to shift." I confirmed, my elbows on my knees. "It's a pretty addictive feeling."

More heavy breathing from Scott before he proclaimed, "I can't be around Allison…"

"Just because she makes you happy?" Stiles continued.

"No, because she makes me weak."

"Ouch." I sighed, standing up and offering a hand to Scott to pull him up with me. "I'm sure it won't be permanent, but maybe it _is _best that you –"

Suddenly, my phone rang again. I held up a hand to the boys before walking off and taking the call. Not a number a recognized, but it already called me twice in the past five minutes so I assumed they had something important (or annoying) to say.

"Hello?"

"Goddammit, Brooklyn!" An angry voice replied. "I've been trying to call you for like – ever!"

I couldn't place the voice, yet it sounded familiar. "Alex? Is that you?"

"Are you fucking –" The voice exasperated. "How could you mistake me for that little asshole! My voice is, without a reason of a doubt, far more melodious, far more _eloquent_, than that little behemoths!"

Putting my forehead in my palm, I sighed. "Conner, what do you want."

"Rude, much?" He continued in that over-the-top voice of his. "What makes you think I want something?"

"You always want something, you mooch." I groaned. "Now, hurry up and say what you have to say because I'm sort of busy at the moment."

"Alright, alright." He admitted with a sigh. "I need a place to stay."

I arched a brow, plugging my free ear in case I heard him incorrectly. "A place to stay?"

"Yeah." He confirmed. "I'm in Beacon Hills."

I almost dropped my phone. "What? Why! Does your mom know you're here because I'm not going to deal with Maria coming down and kicking my ass, alright? She almost killed me for taking James away from her, you remember that, don't you?"

"Yeah. I remember." He said, his tone falling significantly. "But she doesn't know and I'd like to keep it that way."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Conner, get in your car and go back to Rue de Fleur – wait a minute, do you have your license? I didn't know you drove."

His hesitation on the question made me want to jump through the phone and strangle him. "No, not yet. I hitchhiked."

"Where are you." I asked, malice dripping into my voice. "Because I'm going to pick your stupid ass up, and I'm going to kill you, and then I'm going to use your gallbladder for bagpipes and your stomach as a hat!"

You could practically feel his fear, and that made me happy. "Wow, Brooke, it's been a while since you threatened me like that. Feeling back to your old self?"

"Don't you change the subject you moronic dong." I growled. "Location, now."

He sighed. "I'm at Oak Street Gas, sitting outside the store."

I waved to the boys, trying to signal that I was leaving. Scott gave me a reluctant wave back, nursing his side as he walked with Stiles towards the school. Once those two were out of sight I rushed for my bike, climbing onto it and not dropping the call with Conner.

"You're a little shit, you know that?" I asked.

He chuckled. "That's what you love about me!"

"What I love about you is that you're keeping yourself alive, not climbing into cars with drifters!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He groaned. "Are you coming to get me or what?"

"I am. And you'll be riding on my handlebars."

He paused. "Is that a euphemism?"

"Maybe. You'll just have to see."

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry for the month delay! Don't know why this took me forever (yes I do I've been writing other stories), but here it is! Made Conner less, y'know, irritating. :D I hope y'all enjoy, and that you'll be excited for the next chapter! xoxo, Momma Love**


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Jack-in-the-Box

**Monkey Meets Wolf**

**Chapter Fifteen: Jack-in-the-Box**

* * *

_All around the mulberry bush_

_The monkey chased the weasel;_

_The monkey thought 'twas all in good fun_

_Pop! Goes the Alpha's hand out of Derek's chest!_

* * *

"What were you thinking you dumbass!"

This was the first thing out of my mouth when I saw Conner's lanky ass leaning against the store with a sheepish look on his face. When I was younger, I was his baby-sitter, so there'll always be a perpetual "mom" quality to my voice whenever I speak to him. Maybe not the best mother figure, but I managed. His actual mom wasn't much better.

Nervously, he scratched the back of his head. "I needed to get out of there, what else was I supposed to do?"

"Uhhh, call a cab?" I suggested. "Hop on the Greyhound?"

"I don't have that sort of money –"

"Do you have an infinite amount of lives?" I asked, clearly more than a bit pissed. "Because you could've easily been murdered and left out like fresh roadkill!"

He hadn't been looking me in the eye this whole time, now he was toeing at the dirt and possibly trying not to crack under my stare. "Look – it's complicated. Can you just – trust me on that? I'll tell you everything later."

I sighed, knowing that I wasn't going to be getting more out of him. "Fine, but at least come in and say hi the Pam, okay?"

Reluctantly, he agreed to this, following me into the store to say hi to Pam. Now, before I rush forward, it's time to tell you about Maria VanEtten and her numerous husbands and children, Conner being one of the kids, as well as James, and a hundred other little rugrats.

Whatever Maria's maiden name is, no one knows it. I doubt even she does, but she's been Maria Petrovich, Maria Jones, Maria Fayette, Maria du Bois, Maria Summers, and the list just goes on and on and on. She's been a serial monogamist since before the phrase was even coined, obviously. And through each marriage she's had a handful of kids. No one's ever tried to compile a list, because it'd be far too long to keep track of.

No one knows how old she is, or how it's even possible she birthed that many hairy monkeys let alone how in hell she was still doing it. She hadn't had a kid for a few years now, and we all considered that to be a miracle, though that wasn't a good sign. That meant she'd onto the next sucker in a matter of seconds.

But not only did she have all these kids, though, after she remarried, she didn't speak to a single one of them. Not a word. Yet, she was still strangely attacked to her brats. She'd long since ostracized James when we moved, and yet fought tooth and nail to get him to stay. Claiming that if he left she didn't perform her job correctly? I didn't understand it, she's a bit of a nut.

To put it simply, she's just really weird and I tried not to get involved with that whole mess. And, to top it off, I would always catch her staring at me all weird like whenever I went over to visit Conner and his siblings. No clue why, and I didn't really care. I just tried to get as far away from her as I could, and that suited me just fine. Sometimes, though, she was unavoidable. I'm just glad James and I eloped so we wouldn't have to invite her to any wedding.

Returning to the situation at hand, Conner was currently being hugged by a very chipper Pam with simultaneously being cooed over. She was saying things like "Oh Conner, you've gotten so big!" and "You're all grown up now, aren't you?" and "You look so much like your father!"

I actually had to disagree there, I don't think Conner looks like John at all. John was this somewhat small guy, about 5'8", a little round, and a total goofball with his bald head and his knock-knock jokes. Conner, in truth, looked so much like James, and therefore, Don. The smooth brown hair, the whole giant factor (James was 6'3"), wide puppy eyes, and they all had near identical noses. Same with their jawlines. Conner's was less evident until recently, but he can thank a later puberty for that. James hit puberty late, too, another point against John and for Donny.

"What brings you to Beacon Hills, Conner?" Pam asked suddenly, stirring me from my jumbled thoughts.

He shrugged, avoiding the topic as he had been for a while now. "I have the week off."

"And you wanted to spend it with Brooke?" She continued.

"I guess." He still deflected. "I couldn't think of anything else to do."

She sighed, shaking her head. "You certainly picked the wrong time of year to visit, sugar."

Terry, a generic cashier that'll probably never resurface, poked his head out from behind the donut case. "Didn't they kill that mountain lion, though?"

"You're a damn fool if you think that was just a cougar!" She chastised, slapping him upside the head. "Didn't you see what it did to Brooke? It almost ripped off her arm!"

Conner's eyes got big suddenly as he looked at me. "It attacked you?"

I nodded. "Bit me a month ago and it definitely wasn't a lion. Probably a bear."

He cautiously looked down at my arm. "Are you – are you alright?"

"Oh yeah." I laughed. "Takes more than a 500 lb grizzly to take me out."

He lowered me the most incredulous look. "Whenever you open your mouth I end up feeling worse than I already did."

That made me snicker. "It's a gift."

Pam slapped me upside the head next. "Brooklyn-Sophia, don't make me dock you a work day for being a brat."

_Well, I'm quitting soon so I don't mind. _"Sorry, Pam."

"So, Conner, where're you staying?" She asked him, letting me nurse my wounded scalp.

He shrugged. "Brooke's? It's as good a place as any."

I couldn't help but groan. "I _hate _soy milk. Why can't you be a normal human being?"

"I'm not allergic to anything anymore." He protested, sticking his tongue out at me. "Had all my shots."

"So you won't be giving rabies to Kipper either, then?" I joked.

"Shut up!" He laughed, shoving me a lot harder than he probably meant, but I gave his late-hitting puberty the benefit of the doubt.

Pam caught me before I knocked over the magazine rack, but it was a close call, and it left me laughing in disbelief. "Jesus, Conner! First no allergies and now you've got one hell of an arm to boot? You're turning into superman or something!"

"Or something…" He muttered.

"What's that?" Pam asked, innocent as could be.

He shook his head and waved her off. "Nothing, sorry, talking to myself."

"You shouldn't do that, kid." I joked, patting him on the shoulder. "People are going to start thinking you're nuts."

"How could I possibly seem nuts when I'm standing next to you?"

That was the last straw. I got up on my tiptoes, hooked an arm around the back of his neck, dragged him down to my level, and noogied the crap out of his damned shaggy head. It made him laugh, if usually did, and he'd been wallowing around for a bit so it was nice to see a genuine smile on his face.

Following our little trip to the gas station, I took Conner out for lunch, and then to shop for some clothes that actually fit him. The boy seriously hit a growth spurt in these past couple of years, it was a bit ridiculous. After that I dropped him off at Pam's because I didn't want the kid anywhere near me with all the werewolf shit transpiring around my house.

By the time night rolled around, I had some greasy diner dinner with Conner, and I was finally heading home with a belly full of sweet potato fries. I was walking down the street, patting my protruding abdomen, totally not paying attention, when this – weird feeling came over me. And suddenly, instead of walking home, I was walking in the complete opposite direction. I couldn't even muster up the will or thought to change my destination. That was simply the only course of action that my body could possibly want to take.

It brought me to the school, my weird ass auto-pilot body, where Derek was leaning against his car and shaking his head.

"Hey!" I shouted, jogging over to him. "Something werewolfy going on here?"

He levelled me a look as I took up position right beside him. "Something like that."

I noticed the fact that Stiles's jeep was parking quietly a couple of spaces down. "And where are the dunderheads? I hope they're not playing keep-away with that psycho."

That got me a quiet chuckle. "Not yet."

I rolled my eyes to a point where I got a peak into Derek's backseat. A certain veterinarian was roped up back there, bleeding, with duct tape over his mouth. I leaned over to get a better look, just to be sure, and then I righted myself, quickly glaring at Derek.

"_Sooooo_," I started, "want to explain why the town vet is hogtied on your backseat?"

He shrugged, not bothering to answer me.

I pulled out my phone then, pretending to type away. "Alright, so I'll be adding kidnapping and harming innocents to your extensive rap sheet. Really Derek, as your parole officer, I really thought you were doing better."

Another chuckle and he cast an amused glance at me. "You really don't ever turn it off, do you."

"I couldn't turn you off if I tried." I countered with a wink.

He shook his head. "Exactly what I'm talking about."

I lightly put my elbow in his side. "Seriously, why's Deaton your prisoner?"

"I think he's the Alpha."

My jaw dropped a bit there. "Wow, uhhh… that's something you should probably tell one of his bitten babies."

Shrug.

"_Seriously?_" I exasperated, turning to lean on my side. "Sweet little old Deaton? You're sure?"

Shrug.

"Oh my, Derek, have I ever told you how much I admire your talent for languages?" He gave me an odd look. "Because you're so absolutely fluent in _shrug_. I can barely understand you! Bravo to you!"

"Shut up." He said, barely cracking a smile before turning back to the school and –

_Is that a cat yowling over the loudspeaker?_

"You've got to be kidding me." Derek sighed, shaking his head.

I was speechless for a moment, jabbing my thumb towards the school. "What are those two thinking?"

He shrugged, but continued with words, I'm so proud of him. "I don't even know, they probably aren't. But I'm honestly halfway to throttling them –"

This time, it wasn't a yowling cat that caused us to stare at the school. It was a deep, animalistic, carnal roar that practically reverberated through me. Derek and I shared a concerned look, because I knew he felt what I did. A certain pull to the sound, just like the pull I had towards the school in the first place.

"I'm going to kill them." Derek seethed, turning to march towards the school with claws bared.

I quickly grabbed his arm, not really able to stop myself. "Derek, I have a sinking feeling that we should stay together."

His eyes widened as he looked back at me. "The Alpha?"

"I –" I started before shaking my head. "I don't know. But something's coming."

I'm not sure if he knew what he was doing, but he wrapped a hand around mine and moved closer to me, protectively. He looked down at me and I couldn't help but smile back. There really were a lot of sides to Derek, even if the anger and the brooding took up a fair portion of it.

Finally, after sitting there for a minute or two, Scott and Stiles emerged from the school, laughing at something or other.

"I'm going to kill _both _of you!" Derek threatened with an accusatory finger pointed at them. "What the hell was that? What're you trying to do, attract the entire state to the school?"

Scott shrugged a little. "Sorry, I didn't know it'd be that loud."

"Scott." I said as soothingly as I could as I stepped between him and Derek. "Next time you want to wake all of Beacon Hills, I think you could skip the loud speaker. I _felt _your roar. Like the ground shook."

"Wait, really?" Stiles asked, ecstatic as can be.

I nodded, taking a step towards them. "Yes. Really."

Then I slapped them both upside the head.

"Ow!" Stiles complained. "What was that for!"

I slapped him again. "For you both being _idiots!_"

"How are we idiots?"

"Who thinks that summoning a psychotic monster is a good idea?" A rhetorical question on my end. "Especially when you gave half the town a reason to swing by your special rendezvous point!"

Stiles practically guffawed at me. "But – but it was _awesome!_"

"Shut. Up." Derek chimed in, though – less chiming and more clanging.

"Don't be such a sour wolf!" Stiles continued like he really didn't think Derek would punch him.

"Wait –" Scott suddenly interrupted. "How did you know that we were calling for the Alpha?"

I shrugged. "I got this – feeling, when you howled. It was just like the feeling that brought me here. It seemed like a beacon."

"Brooke," Scott started to question, "that was the first roar I let out. Just now."

_Shit_. "Great. Looks like we're just where the Alpha wants us. How about next time, you don't do half the work for him, alright?"

He looked down and started toeing the dirt. "Sorry, Brooke."

I rolled my eyes. "Sorry won't stop the Alpha from charging this place."

As he looked back up at me, he seemed to be distracted by something in Derek's car. "What'd you do with him?"

"What?" Derek asked.

We all looked back into the car, noticing the open door on the other side. _This doesn't bode well_.

"I didn't do anything." He continued, and he really didn't.

"I can vouch for him." I interrupted very briefly. "Him and I have been standing here and he hasn't touched Deaton this whole time."

I turned to look up at Derek to find that he was much taller than I remembered. Like – _much _taller. And what was sticking out of his stomach? A stomach that was now eyelevel with me?

The Alpha's hand.

And the next thing I knew, apart from Derek sputtering blood onto me, I was out of it. I didn't pass out, no, far from it. My claws shot out from their beds and I leapt at the Alpha's back just as he tossed Derek away. I latched onto his shoulder blades and dug in deep into his muscle. He'd have to physically rip me off of him. That's when I saw that his carotid was exposed beautifully.

There was no thought, none whatsoever, I just started ripping into him. The second my teeth made contact with his leathery skin, the fangs came to the party. I bit down hard, hard enough to sever flesh thoroughly. I ripped off a chunk of him and spit it out, with his blood coating my chin and neck, I'd never felt better in all of my life. The feeling of tearing a man apart with my teeth – it doesn't compare. It really doesn't.

I dug back into him, biting down when he finally managed to reach around behind him, ripping his claws into my side and causing me to call out in pain. That didn't stop me, I resumed digging down further into him with my teeth until I felt something hard and durable – _bone_. This sick and twisted smile broke out across my face before burying it into the exposed flesh in front of me.

Then, after reaching back and scratching open both of my sides, the Alpha grabbed hold of my arm and literally dislodged me from his shoulders, tossing me into the side of Stiles's jeep. I had barely landed on the ground when he ran off towards the school after Stiles and Scott. I got up onto all fours to try and figure out how to best go about my next move when I remembered –

Derek. The whole reason why I flipped out in the first place. Feeling the animalistic rage web from me, I scrambled to my feet and rushed to his side. He was just lying there, bleeding out in the grass, eyes still, looking impossibly dead. First, I covered my mouth at the sight of all the blood, but then I felt the gooey warmth coating my chin and I realized that now wasn't the time to be squeamish. Especially after attempting to rip out someone's spinal column.

"Derek – oh God." I practically gasped when I saw the huge gaping hole through his torso. "Please don't be dead, _please _don't be dead."

He gave me no inclination that he was still in there, but I rolled him over regardless, leaning down close to check if he was breathing. And he wasn't. I checked his pulse – none. I didn't want to believe it, and the signs were pretty clear – I just knew he wasn't going to die like that.

"Alright, c'mon, Derek." I pled quietly. "_Please _wake up. I don't know what I'd do without you. There's still a lot you haven't explained to me, like _why _this psycho has an invested interest in delving into my pants. You don't want me crapping out a litter of puppies, do you? That'd be weird, and you _still _haven't told me about the weird kissing shit, so you seeeeeeriously can't just go and bite the dust –"

"Shut… up…"

"Oh thank God."

Finding some glimmer of hope in our fucked up situation, I reached down and pulled Derek's arm across my shoulders and started leading his deadweight body over to his car. Looking back, I should've cared about Stiles and Scott's situation, but I didn't. There was only Derek and getting him to safety. So I reached into his pants pocket, pulled out his keys, made sure he was comfortable in the backseat, and peeled out of there without a second thought.

* * *

**Author's Note: Ha ha! Sorry for the big delay! This was honestly half done, I just never sat down and finished it. Sooooorryyyyy. Things will be changing up a little bit the next chapter, or a lot-a bit. Heh heh heh... I'm super excited. Anyways! Teen Wolf Season 5 everyone! I'm stoked (now I just need to catch up with season 4)! xoxo, Momma Love**


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Nurse Joy

**Monkey Meets Wolf**

**Chapter Sixteen: Nurse Joy**

* * *

_You really should admire my bedside manner._

* * *

By the time we got to my house, Derek hadn't healed. At all. He was still in the same condition, bleeding out all over everything beneath him, making a mess wherever he went, and overall remaining unconscious like a useless dong. I didn't have any time to fumble around for a key so I simply kicked my door open, destroying the frame and not even giving half a damn.

I got him into my bedroom, practically tossing him onto my bed before running for towels. But, of course, due to me absolutely freaking out, I just spent a minute or two pacing my room before raiding the bathroom. Once I came back, I nearly puked. My bed was turning red far quicker than was entirely healthy, and I was pretty sure I could see my sheets _through _him. I quickly pressed the towels into the – _gag _– hole, hoping that this little contribution would help, even if it was just a little.

Deciding that this would be best be done with better access to his wounds, I literally ripped off his jacket and shirt. If he complained about it when he woke the hell up, I'd go out and buy him some sparkling new ones. I just wanted to get him healthy quicker, faster, more urgently – _now_.

That's when I remembered something that seemed to work before, though it could've been my imagination. I didn't bother to think too hard about it, I just bent over and kissed that grumpy fucker. When he was dying from wolfsbane, my supple – okay, chapped – lips were just the trick to get him back on his feet. This seemed a little direr (that's actually a word), but every bit counts, right?

And, just like magic, I felt him move.

"Oh sweet baby Jesus." I sighed in relief, pulling away from him. "Maybe I should've asked about the healing power of –"

I couldn't continue, he suddenly reached up and pulled me back down to his blood covered lips. He was hungry, hungry for passion? Or hungry for power, I wasn't able to tell the difference. His lips kept sliding over mine, tongue flitting out and demanding more, wrenching open my mouth and lapping up whatever healing magic I possessed.

When he paused to take a breath, I noticed the glowing blue eyes. "Derek, I don't think these kisses are going to clean you up completely."

He groaned, shifting beneath me. "You don't think I know that?"

I sighed loudly, pressing the towels back to his bleeding gut as liquid dripped onto my hands. _Where'd that come from? _ "I'm just saying, I hope you have a better plan than this one."

Apparently that wasn't what he wanted to hear because he just started glaring at me, like he usually did whenever he was awake and breathing. Maybe I preferred him silent and on the cusp of death… okay, you got me. I didn't, but sometimes I truly wish that I did. _Wait, this isn't his usual glare, why is he looking at me like that?_

He gave me one good solid cough, spraying black blood right in my face. "Jesus – that was fucking gross, thanks a lot."

"Would you fucking shut up, for once?" He continued to moan, wincing and arching his – _gag _– stomach hole.

I hadn't realized it, but I'd been crying. As much as I was annoyed by everything that came out of that man's mouth, despite how shitty he acted to everyone around him, I'd miss him if he were dead. I rubbed at the stubborn tears and slumped my shoulders because there was literally nothing I could think to do, since the 'H' word was still probably forbidden, and explaining his enhanced healing to a medical professional was – less than desired. I'd get locked up in a looney bin just long enough for them to realize that I was telling the truth only to send Derek off to a research facility where he'd be poked and prodded for the rest of his grumpy days.

There really wasn't anything else coming to mind so I simply grabbed the first aid kit from the bathroom and I started to wrap his wound to the best of my ability. I wasn't a nurse, by any means, obvious by my evident nausea when faced with intestines and blood spewing out all over my bed. Sure, I could be a nurse if I was in a porno –

_Wait a minute._

"Derek, feel free to ignore this idea if you hate it." I started, feeling only slightly nervous concerning what I was about to propose to the guy.

He grunted and nodded, signaling me to continue.

I sighed. "Alright, so, this whole kissing deal, I just thought that – well, if we went a bit _further_, if we really went to town on each other, then you'd heal even faster. Because I doubt my lips have magic healing capabilities, that'd be way too convenient."

Honestly, the look Derek was giving me? It was bordering shock.

"You want to do _what?_" He managed to grit out.

"Sex, you idiot." I groaned, rolling my eyes. "I thought I made that clear."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "You want to have sex with me? To heal me?"

I debated the answer for a while, and then I shrugged. "Well, I've wanted to roll around with you for a week or so now, and this seemed like a perfect opportunity to get my wish. Also you dying would kind of suck. Scott and I would be without our werewolf Yoda."

"How could you possibly know that would work." He questioned in that Derek way that wasn't even a question.

I smirked. "For some reason, I know that it'll work. I know it in my gut."

For a second, I could've sworn that Derek's eyes grew wide as plates, but it was gone almost as soon as I noticed it. There was a moment where I considered bringing it up, but I simply ignored the feeling and bent over to kiss the big lug.

"So, are you in or are you out?" I mumbled against his lips.

He didn't respond verbally, just hungrily reclaimed my lips and started to move his hand up my shirt. Before we could get started on the preliminaries though, I pulled a condom out of the nightstand drawer and tucked that away, I couldn't count the times James and I got carried away and totally forgot to suit up. Had enough heart attacks to last me a lifetime.

And then, I got laid. Simple as that.

* * *

**Author's Note: Grease Monkey fans are probably a little confused, but I decided that Brooke's snuggle session wouldn't've been enough to heal up that hole, and - honestly - with Derek's recent track record, he seems to screw everything that moves. Sorry for those who haven't caught up with the series, but I don't know what this all means for Brooke! We'll continue as planned, that much is for sure.**

**Parrish is a fucking phoenix, I swear. I thought that before I read all the theories.**

**Sorry short chapter is short! Please read and review to complain if you must!**

**xoxo, Momma Love**


	17. Chapter Seventeen: After

**Monkey Meets Wolf**

**Chapter Seventeen: Afterglow/Aftershock/Aftermath**

* * *

_Whatever you want to call it, it was a great start to a beautiful day_

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, I honestly thought I was dreaming or something. Derek and me both naked in my bed, his deadweight of an arm thrown across my torso, him snoring quietly into a pillow, and me, totally sated for the first time in a long while. You see, after my stint of marriage and my husband died, I sort of fell off the wagon. I started sleeping around with a few guys at the garage if only to forget all the misery I was experiencing at home and with life in general. That didn't end well, seeing as those assholes started trying to fuck me – _on the floor_ – during work and I wasn't going to have any of that.

So, on that sunny note, careful as I could, I rolled Derek onto his side and I checked to see if my masterplan bore any results worth mentioning.

_It did!_

I quietly congratulated myself for my brilliant ideas because it ended well, in more than one sense, and I was so proud of myself. The hole had completely healed and Derek seemed to be back in fighting form because he was glaring at me through narrow slits, obviously still exhausted.

Then, the cutest sound I've ever made _ever _bubbled out of me. A _giggle_.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."

Leaning over to give him a quick kiss, I was smiling like a goddamn idiot. Then I swung my legs over the side of the bed and went to make breakfast while grabbing a loose button-up along the way. There was just something wonderful about having casual sex with a guy and you weren't a total emotional mess before, during, and, most certainly, after. And there was also something wonderful in that light soreness you get after working those sets of muscles because you hadn't in a while.

We had sex twice, once to heal him, and another because he was better fit to actually participate the second time around. And both times were _glorious_.

So, I welcomed the light pain, it was more than manageable and I really didn't care. I just wanted pancakes. Couldn't remember the last time I felt the need to get up and make breakfast, probably back when James as alive. Light and fluffy ooey gooey pancakes, there's nothing better. I pulled the buttermilk mix out from the cabinet and got started on some eggs and bacon as well.

Once those were all finished and ready to go, Derek had started shuffling his way out of the bedroom. Nothing like the sweet smell of homestyle goodness to rouse the dead.

"Hey, morning sleepy." I chuckled as I flipped the final pancake onto a plate. "Coffee?"

He nodded, taking a seat at the table and resting his weary head on his hand. It's sort of funny, the difference in his condition, dying one day and perfectly fine the next. This new world I stepped into, the supernatural, it's a little weird. Where sex heals all ailments and knocking on doors has become as aged and tired as sliced bread. Also where grown men howl at the moon and cougars can apparently kill people.

I put Derek's coffee in front of him and took my seat with my plate of food, ready to devour it, when he snagged a piece of bacon. My jaw dropped as I looked up at him. _Ass!_ "Excuse you!"

There was a faint smirk while I watched my seared pork disappear into his mouth. Before it was gone for good I leaned across the table and kissed him, getting just a piece of it back and smirking deviously.

"Excuse yourself." He countered, a twinkle in his pale green eyes.

I started chuckling. "My house, my bacon, my rules." He gave me a ghost of a smile in return. "How are you feeling by the way? Back in tip top shape?"

He shrugged. "Just about."

"How does that work, exactly?" I asked. "Sex is just your cure-all medicine?"

"Sort of." He chuckled. "Anything that increases heart rate can help us heal much faster than usual."

I took a sip of coffee. "That makes more sense. So anyone could've fit the bill."

"In theory." He said almost hesitantly. "There are – _other _factors to take into consideration."

"Like?"

"The full moon is only a few days away." He elaborate. "All of our strengths are amplified around this time."

I nodded. "Dually noted."

With that I clicked on the TV to get the morning news.

"_Last night at Beacon Hills High School, five students were held hostage by one Derek Hale. The former Beacon Hills resident killed a janitor after breaking into the facility and is currently on the run from the police. If anyone knows anything about the possible whereabouts of the suspect, they're advised to call the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department._"

After muting the stupid thing, I looked up at Derek. "I'm assuming you didn't get up and leave in the mile of the night, especially not to go and kill a janitor."

He didn't look to be too happy about the news, or my comments about it. "Safe assumption."

I nodded, deciding to drop the subject we were left with a very thick and very awkward silence. When the TV started flashing pictures of the "crime scene" I just clicked it off. It wasn't doing any good. But that made me wonder where Derek was going to be staying for the next few weeks while the whole county hunted him down. He could stay with me, that was always a good option. Sex everyday? Great option.

"Sooo..." I started, ignoring his slight glare. "You're not going to be able to stay at your house now are you?"

"If that wasn't fucking obvious." He snarled.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Would you can the nasty attitude for a minute? I've got a proposition for you."

That broke his usual aggressive facial expressions for half a second. He really was quite attractive when he wasn't plagued with frown lines.

"Why don't you stay here in the meantime?" I offered. "I'm pretty sure no one knows we've even met and you can take your time finding someone else to room with."

His eyes widened for a moment before returning to normal. "You'd let me stay here?"

I nodded. "Apart from your inability to knock, you're not a bad roommate. You don't snore, you don't have a lot of shit lying about, and you're really good at fucking my brains out. I'm sure we can make something work."

That got a snicker out of him. "So that's what you had in mind?"

I couldn't help but smile and wink at him. "I'm a girl of simple needs. Besides, we can help each other out, what's there to lose?"

"Besides a few nights sleep?" He suggested coyly.

"Precisely." I smirked, leaning across the table and giving him a quick kiss. "Ready to lose a couple hours right now?"

He shrugged, his language of choice. "I think I can manage that."

And I got laid again. Fuck yeah.

* * *

**Author's Note: Two month delay! Whoops! But hey, better late than never! And it's a dumb filler chapter to boot! Yaaaay for feels and other dumb poop. HOW ABOUT THAT MID-SEASON FINALE THOUGH? Sorry, I'm a little hyper? And all over the place, hopefully this will be followed by a more substantial chapter shortly, I'm on my dad's laptop because my keyboard is busted on mine. And my dad needs to learn about private windows! Yikes! xoxo, Momma Love**

**P.S. Also, for everyone favouriting "A Grease Monkey's Tale", this stories stupid and very ugly big sister, it's getting deleted as soon as _Monkey Meets Wolf _is done. I hate that shit and it actually causes me pain to see it in my emails.**


	18. Chapter Eighteen: Unscheduled

**Monkey Meets Wolf**

**Chapter Eighteen: Unscheduled Appointments**

* * *

_You've got to love it when you have to suddenly cancel every plan you have because you're suddenly a werewolf. I had a life to live, people._

* * *

It'd been a few days since Derek and I decided to pop that cork and I hadn't even caught a glimpse of the guy. Had it not been for the massive state wide manhunt for the guy, I'd feel like I'd just been one of those hit it and quit it sort of girls. I probably was, and I didn't actually care. That just meant that I had more time to myself, for once. Got all my fall cleaning done, went shopping for some new clothes since the Alpha was doing a fantastic job at ripping mine to pieces, and hung out with Conner for a while.

"So things must've calmed down around here since that mountain lion was killed." He stated once we'd sat down on a rock wall at the park.

I nodded, then decided that it would've been more accurate to shake my head. "You'd think that, but it's lacrosse season. People around here are _still_ going nuts. Just with less murder and more balls."

He laughed suddenly, pulling our lunch out of the takeout bag. "You Beacon Hills folks and your lacrosse."

"Hey, we've all got our own ways of taking out anger." I mentioned as I broke my chopsticks apart. "We all just prefer to smack each other with big ass metal sticks in these parts."

"You know, sometimes I worry about you." He chuckled.

I shrugged. "Eh, I'm doing much better. Played some lacrosse with my buddy Scott, and I got laid not too long ago! And before you ask how that's different than usual, it wasn't my usual self-loathing sex."

"Wooooooow!" He exclaimed, sneaking a bite of my General Tso's. "Go Brooke for nabbing some dick!"

I fully agreed, raising my box of takeout in a mock toast. "Finally, the day has come, the day we've been waiting for. For too long, my lady parts, noble and virtuous, have been dry and barren, knowing only the touch of my very own –"

"Brooke!" Conner shouted before covering my mouth as a woman pushed a stroller past us.

_Whoops_.

"Sorry ma'am!" He called after her, only to get her to turn back and glare at us.

"People in this town are too uptight." I shrugged, stuffing my face with delicious Chinese.

Conner reached out and practically shoved me onto my side. "I'd agree if you hadn't just been shouting about the status of your vagina!"

I was laughing, but the place the kid shoved me felt like it was going to bruise, it was time we had a chat about that. "Alright, what's up with this super strength of yours? I remember you were strong but now you're just – you're freaking Thor over here! If I figure out that you're using roids then I'm seriously kicking your ass."

"It's nothing major." He deflected after biting into an egg roll. "My mom just had me on some herbal supplements and I've kept it up, it's really improved my health across the board."

I eyed him suspiciously. "Herbal supplements? If that's just freakish Maria talk for roids I'm going to kick her ass too –"

"Brooke." He said seriously, putting a hand on my shoulder. "I am a teenager. Why would I risk my sex drive just to look bigger?"

His crude answer caused me to burst out laughing. "Okay, fair point, but try not to break my arm whenever you touch me, alright?"

"Will do." He smiled, a brief look of relief crossing his face before it quickly vanished.

_Weird_.

"Now, you gotta tell me about this guy you've been seeing." He switched topics easily enough. "He cute at least? I know your one night stands got a little scurvy for a while."

"Oh," I smirked, "he's a vast improvement over my previous lays."

"When am I going to meet him?" He asked innocently, finishing his egg roll.

I patted him on the back. "If I can help it, never. Now, why don't we –"

Our casual lunch was suddenly interrupted by my phone buzzing against the stone beneath us. I pulled it out and it was some number I had never seen before. Putting it on silent, I turned back to my lovable little brother – Conner. Sometimes I forgot that he wasn't my actual sibling.

"As I was saying, we should probably get you back to Pam. I have a job interview in a couple of hours and I haven't showered since Tuesday."

"I thought that was the fried egg I was smelling." He joked, giving me that stupid smirk of him.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh har di har har. Very funny."

"Who was that, by the way?" He asked while motioning to my phone.

I shrugged. "No clue, didn't recognize the number, it's probably some –"

My phone started ringing again, same number. I groaned loudly and accepted the call.

"Hello?"

"Why didn't you answer before?" A deep male voice asked me.

I sort of had to blink through my confusion. "Derek? What happened to your phone? This isn't your number."

"I accidentally – look, it doesn't matter, how are you feeling?"

Still totally bewildered, I stood up from my spot on the wall and walked down the path a ways. "I'm feeling fine, I guess? Why do you ask?"

I could practically hear his blatant disbelief through the phone. "It's the full moon tonight, you'd think you'd be more concerned than you are."

My eyes nearly popped out of my head. "You're fucking kidding me!"

"Are you always this oblivious?" He asked, clearly not amused by my carelessness.

"Believe it or not, Derek, my whole life hasn't become one big –" I looked back to see if Conner was out of ear shot, he was, "one big werewolf party! I'm busy, I have things to do! So forgive me for not thinking about the hulking monster leering over my shoulder 24/7!"

For a hot second, he didn't say anything, then finally, "You don't seem to be affected by it at all."

"By what?"

"The full moon." He explained without his usual nasty tone.

"Why would I be?" I asked earnestly. "It's still the middle of the day."

"That doesn't matter." He elaborated. "We still feel the pull long before the moon rises."

I couldn't help but groan. "Well for fuck's – why can't anything about this whole shitfest be simple! I had an interview today!"

He made a similar noise on his end. "Do whatever, you'll probably be fine for a few more hours."

I rolled my eyes. "Well that's good to hear, that's all though isn't it? I was having a nice lunch until you had to go shitting on me with this little tidbit of information."

"Yeah. That's it." He said before he actually hung up on me.

Shaking my head, I pocketed my phone and walked back over to Conner. "Sorry about that."

"Was that the guy you're seeing?" He asked incredulously.

I shrugged. "I don't know what we are, but we're not really seeing each other."

He sighed and patted me on the head. "I'm sure your Mr. Right will roll around sooner or later."

I let out a sarcastic laugh. "He already did. You can go visit him at the local cemetery if you want."

"Brooke, I'm sorry, I –"

"Before you start this 'Brooke pity fest', I actually don't give a shit." I interrupted. "I don't know what's going on, but things have changed. He's not the center of my world anymore, which is weird, and yet I'm still glad for it. You can only drown yourself in a pint of Hagan-Das for so long."

This odd smile broke out on his face as he reached his arm around me and held me close. "About damn time you grease monkey."

I laughed quietly into his jacket, jabbing him lightly in the ribs. "Don't you be getting all mushy on me, I don't have time for that crap."

"Too bad." He stated, grinding his chin into my head. "You're getting all the mush."

Still laughing, I pinched his sides until he let me go. "Seriously, get going. I need to get ready for that interview and I don't have time to walk you home."

He levelled me a sarcastic look. "I'm not a kid, Brooke. I can walk myself home."

"If you haven't noticed, Conner," I started, "kids aren't the ones dropping like flies around here. It's big tough guys like you."

He smirked. "I can take care of myself."

"Against a serial killer?" _Monster werewolf. _"You're strong, but not _that _strong."

"That's what you think!" He laughed as he took off down the path, turning back and winking at me. "Meet me for dinner later this week?"

I rolled my eyes as he continued without bothering to get my answer. "I'm not your girlfriend! Stop planning dates with me!"

He didn't respond so I simply watched him take off down the street, his track legs taking him farther than I thought was physically possible. Time with Conner was always well spent, he was a little ray of sunshine when he kept his lop-sided mouth shut. So I took our empty takeout cartons and I tossed them in the trash.

Without really thinking, I looked at my phone. _The full moon, my first one_. I sighed laboriously. _Tonight's going to be a long_ _one._

* * *

**Author's Note: Hi friends! Long time no see! Teen Wolf is back in full swing so expect some more chapters from me. And I also got past this little filler chapter because I'm trying not to have it be so _A Grease Monkey's Tale _cuz that shit sucked. Drop a review if you have the time? I'd love you forever! xoxo, Momma Love**


	19. Chapter Nineteen: Sweetness

**Monkey Meets Wolf**

**Chapter Nineteen: Sweetness**

* * *

_Jimmy Eat World, eat my heart out._

* * *

In a young werewolf's life, their first full moon is always stressed as the most pivotal. It's the first time they're ever truly controlled by a greater force, the first time they ever have to rely on the power of the pack to get them through the night. There is nothing in their life that is more invigorating or more terrifying than their first full moon.

And do you know what I don't remember? My first full moon.

I went through my day like it was no big deal, just like Derek suggested, and I thought I was in the clear! Went to my interview, totally nailed it, sat around watching reruns of Charmed, like a boss, and went to bed thinking everything was alright. Of course then I woke up covered in tree sap, completely naked, and without a clue how I got like that.

"Are you cheese flippin' kidding me?" I groaned loudly when I woke up.

"Why are you always so loud." Someone responded and I just about fell off the bed.

Okay fine, I fell hard on my ass.

"Jesus Christ!" I exclaimed, looking back up at who was laying there beside me. "Derek? When the hell did you get here?"

He half snorted then rolled back over. "You tried to booty call me last night."

"Oh. Okay. That makes _some _sense." I put my hand on my leg and then suddenly remembered that I was covered in guck. "Just one question, did we do it in maple syrup? Because I am all sticky in not a good way. I really hope we didn't though because I feel like someone would be called Mrs. Butterworth and that's disgusting and I don't think I'll be able to have pancakes ever again."

Derek, he actually sort of laughed as he rolled onto his back. "No, we didn't do anything. You ran off into the woods seconds after I got here."

I sighed in relief. "That's good to hear, so then we – wait a minute. If we didn't do it and I disappeared into the woods, how am I naked right now?"

He shrugged, throwing an arm behind his head. "You screamed something about how "clothes are jails for our bodies" as you ran off. I assume that had something to do with it."

I groaned. "Honestly, full moon werewolf me sounds like a hippie tripping on acid."

"It was pretty funny, actually."

I couldn't help but smile as I stood up. "I love how you never smile unless it's at my expense."

All of a sudden, Derek tossed me his phone. "See for yourself."

"No way –" I muttered, looking at the file he pulled up. "You videotaped it?"

He smirked, rolling onto his side to face me better. "I honestly couldn't resist."

It's sort of surreal, watching a video of yourself. Especially when you don't remember anything that occurred during said video. From the still used, I had managed to climb a tree in – my underwear.

_Oh lord, what the hell._

"_You don't understand Derek!" _A swaying Brooke slurred as she swung around the trunk of the tree like it was a stripper pole. _"I really just want to fly!"_

"_There's a problem with that." _A snickering Derek responded from behind the camera lens.

"_No there isn't!" _She continued, giggling like a school girl. _"I just have to flap my wings and I'm gone!"_

"_Problem number one. You're not a bird, Brooke." _He decided to remind a very drunk me. _"You'd fall."_

"_But see, here's the kicker!" _She exclaimed with a cheeky grin, sitting down on a branch and dangling her feet. _"You'd be there to catch me!"_

"_Yeah, sure." _He said incredulously, I could practically hear him rolling his eyes at me.

"_Of course you will be. You like to _pretend _that you're some emotionless grump who doesn't give a wolf's ass – HA, get it? It's funny because the saying is "rat's ass" but we're werewolves so –"_

"_Yes, Brooke, I get the joke."_

"_I just wanted to be sure! Because you _also _like to act like you don't have a sense of humor. Not that you'll ever fool me. Now catch me!"_

"_Jesus Christ –"_

The video suddenly ended as I seemed to jump from the tree and onto my unsuspecting werewolf companion. I looked up at Derek, smirking down at me from my bed like he was something special. And, I have to admit, he was pretty cute lying there.

"Stop looking at me with those eyes." I exasperated, crawling back into bed and giving him a quick kiss. "Big whoop, you saw me being a total imbecile. I do that on the regular."

"Yeah, that's true." He admitted, still smirking like the little shit he was.

I rolled my eyes and shoved him lightly. "What a sweetheart, how did I get so lucky."

He shrugged, not even bothering to answer.

"Alright, jackass. I'm taking a shower." I said, standing and heading for the bathroom. "How was Scott's full moon, by the way? Was it just as riveting and hilarious as mine?"

"If you think trying to kill Allison Argent and Jackson Whittemore is riveting and hilarious, then sure."

I poked my head out of the bathroom. "You're kidding, right?"

He shook his head.

"What the fuck!" I exclaimed, ducking back into and turning on the hot water. "Is every werewolf experience this different?"

"Usually it's more of the murder and fucking sort of experiences." He said bluntly.

"Well, I dicked off into the woods before we could get the latter on, sorry about that. Don't know where my hippie trip decided to come from but whatever." I lamented just before stepping under the water. "I'll make it up to you later!"

A few minutes later I stepped back out into my room and Derek was – still there surprisingly. Kipper had found his way to my grumpy guest and was sitting on his extremely tight pectorals and licking his face. Unable to resist, I pulled out my phone and took a picture.

"Sorry, this is adorable." I chuckled, drying my hair and plopping down beside Derek.

Who happened to be giving me a pretty good side glare.

"Show that to anyone and you're –"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm dead." I mocked him. "You really should change your tune every now and then. The "I hate everyone and everything" act is getting a bit tired."

He continued that sour face of his. "It's not an act."

"Well." I started, leaning over and petting Kipper. "You don't seem to hate me. At least not all the time."

He snorted. "I do most of the time."

"Bull shit." I smirked, kissing him and snuggling up to his side. "Where have you been staying, anyway? I offered but you haven't actually been here for a while."

For a second, he hesitated, like he debated telling me where he's been. "I've been at Stiles'."

I almost wanted to take a swig of water just to spit it out. "Wait, _what? _You're staying at the house of one Beacon Hills Sherriff? The one leading your manhunt? In what world is that a good idea!"

"It's one of the last places they'd look for me." He surmised, which is actually quite true.

"Okay, fair point." I conceded. "But still, no one knows that we're sort of – knocking boots."

Miracle of all miracles, Derek actually barked out a laugh. "What did you just call it?"

"Knocking boots! It's like –" I blushed. "Okay shut up, you know what I mean! I'm saying you could totally stay here and no one would be the wiser!"

Again, he hesitated, resting his hand on Kipper and looking away from me. "I just – I don't want to take the risk."

"What's the worst that can happen?" I tried to joke. "I get questioned by the police, big whoop."

"No one knows you're a werewolf." Derek practically snarled. "I don't want anyone to figure out how close we are and maybe think to look a little further."

_Oh._

"You don't want the hunters poking their noses where they don't belong." I managed to figure out.

He nodded, putting his arm around me and lightly dusting his fingers up and down. Beneath that extremely grumpy bravado was a truly sweet guy. I nuzzled into him, reaching down to hold his hand and not even giving myself a second to doubt my action. He squeezed my hand, making me wonder what the hell we were. I decided not to think too much about it though. I just let myself sink into sweet uncertainty.

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry for no gorey/gruesome details of her first full moon, working an angle. And I think this needless fluff was very much needed. Gonna refresh on my Teen Wolf timeline and get back on this lovely gem of a story. Reviews aren't necessary, but very much appreciated!**


	20. Chapter Twenty: Grand Theft Camaro

**Monkey Meets Wolf**

**Chapter Twenty: Grand Theft Camaro**

* * *

_If I was going to jack car's, Derek's would be first on my list_

* * *

"Take care of her for me."

Obtaining the keys to Derek's beautiful stallion, it practically got me high. After I creamed my pants. I'm a grease monkey, I _live _for beautiful cars like his. My mission? Drive around like a crazy person so the cops are distracted while Derek roams about trying to find more alpha clues. Simple. I used to drag race with some guys back in Rue de Fleur, I could handle this situation. Unfortunately Stiles and Scott were also along for the ride so I couldn't go ham, I had to be slightly careful.

When I watched Derek run off into the distance, and the boys climbed in, I smirked back at them and prepared for the joy ride of a lifetime.

"You boys better buckle up." I warned them. "Derek's given me free reign to this beast."

"Any clue why we're the getaway drivers? Why he couldn't do this on his own?" Scott protested from the backseat.

I rolled my eyes and threw the car into drive. "State wide manhunt, courtesy of one Scott McCall."

"Sorry." He mumbled. "Forgot about that."

I heard Stiles scoff beside him. "Yeah, wish I had _that _luxury. Worst. House guest. Ever."

"Oh you both need to grow up." I said just before making a U-turn and going in the exact opposite direction at about, 90 miles per hour?

"Jesus shit Brooke!" Scott yelped as he was thrown against the backseat.

"Are you trying to kill us!" Stiles chimed in.

"It's not my fault that you forgot your seatbelts!" I laughed, looking over my shoulder at the two as they were thrown around like a couple of ragdolls.

Truly, entirely, amusing.

Not long after we started down the road, a green Kia was tailing us. So, maybe we weren't distracting the cops, but we certainly got the attention of someone! Just what I like, a little excitement when I'm driving! I was frequently taking the most obnoxious and hard turns of my driving career in some attempts to get our tail off of our rear ends, to no avail. They were committed. Doesn't mean I stopped!

"Could you slow down? Just a little maybe?" Scott asked sheepishly.

Without looking back, I shifted gears and accelerated. "Sure, why not. Let's turn this beautiful contraption into a fucking Cirque du Soleil sideshow! I'm sure Derek would appreciate flaying you alive for that!"

"Uhhh…" Stiles groaned. "I think I'm going to be sick…"

"If you want Derek to kill you too, be my guest." I returned just as I pulled up behind an 18-wheeler.

"Holy sh-" Stiles started to curse before I passed the truck on a double yellow and continued off without a second thought.

Snickering, I shifted again and we were absolutely untouchable. Or at least we should've been when it came to outrunning a gosh darn Kia for Creed's sake. Someone must've tweaked with it because it was still gaining speed and crawling right back up my butt.

I groaned audibly. "Who the hell maxed out that fucking hamster car? And _why? _The only people who drive that are kids fresh outta high school!"

"Does it really matter?" Stiles interjected. "The important thing is that _hamster car _is covering some serious ground!"

"Faster?" I questioned rhetorically.

"I don't think this thing can _go _any faster." Scott muttered quietly.

"Much faster." Stiles replied, if not a bit hesitantly. They knew I'd push this puppy to its limits if I had to.

"If she goes any faster she'll kill us!" Scott complained like a little kid.

I rolled my eyes, still picking up speed. "You have absolutely no faith!"

Spur of the moment, I pulled the wheel and started down an almost dirt road, half expecting our pursuers to follow, which they did not. I checked my rearview mirrors at least three times. Remember kids, objects may be closer than they appear.

"They're gone!" Stiles exclaimed in pure dunderhead excitement.

I let out a sigh of relief and finally eased off on the gas and pointed to the police radio Stiles nabbed before we left. "See if anyone's caught scent of Derek yet."

"_All units, suspect is on foot heading into the iron works._"

"Hold on kiddos!" I snickered before putting that pedal to the metal and speeding off towards our werewolf buddy.

They both got thrown back, one or both of them letting out a whiny, "Come ooooon!"

"Oh suck it up buttercup!" I continued to laugh at their expense.

As I sped through town and finally came to the iron works, I saw Derek hiding behind a bulldozer. Quickly, I reached across the passenger seat for the door handle and threw the door open.

"Babe, get in!" I shouted, just as I noticed one familiar hunter firing at him with a fucking crossbow, of all things – and then he got out a semi-automatic rifle. He really wanted Derek dead.

It took every ounce of my power not to go full wolf and rip the guys throat out. Fucking protective streak that I can't seem to shake when it comes to that moron. Finally, Derek scrambled to his feet and barrelled towards the open door. He hadn't even shut it before I was revving the engine again. No offense to Derek's safety, but he'd be fine, and that asshole hunter was still shooting. Thank _God _for that bulletproof glass I installed.

Once Derek was safe in the car, I started laughing. "I didn't think you'd need that glass that badly, but I'm glad I put it in!"

"That makes two of us." Stiles sighed in relief.

"What part of lying low don't you understand!" Scott yelled from the backseat.

In some sort of rage, Derek punched the dash. "Dammit, I had him!"

"Who, the Alpha?" Stiles asked like a fucking moron.

"Stiles, I think you should keep your dumb remarks to a minimum." I tried to warn him, but Derek was steamed and not ready to be interrupted.

"_Yes!_" He snarled. "He was right in front of me and the friggin' police showed up!"

Stiles seemed to take real offense to that. "Whoa, hey, they're just doing their jobs."

"Alright, everyone, let's just try to relax until we're sure that we're not being chased by –"

See, I tried to simmer things down, but that just pissed Derek off more.

"Brooke, for once in your goddamn life, would you just _shut it!_" He practically growled at me, his eyes flickering blue and looking overall – murdery. Not something I usually see on his face when he looks at me – at least, not anymore.

Covering up how much that actually hurt, I bit the inside of my cheek, kept my mouth shut, and continued on through Beacon Hills like the good like chauffer I was.

"There shouldn't be any job to do!" He continued. "But thanks to someone who decided to make me the most wanted fugitive in the entire state, every cop in the county is trying to hunt me down!"

"Can we seriously get past that?" Scott countered. "I made a dumb ass mistake, I get it!"

"Alright!" Stiles suddenly interjected by practically flailing his arms between everyone. "There's more important things going on right now! How did you find him?"

Obviously the last remark was aimed at Derek, to which he responded with absolutely nothing. He gave me a sideways glance, like he wanted to tell me something, but I had my eyes trained steadfast out the window. And I could've sworn that I heard him say something underneath his breath, maybe it was an apology? I don't know, I was trying _not _to pay attention to him.

God, it's been a while since words hurt me. At least, hurt me like this. Amber's verbal lashings leave their mark, but this one was different. Probably had something to do with how sweet he'd been treating me the past few days. Dropped my guard, made me think I was special. Laughable. Derek probably doesn't give half a flying fuck about me beyond – well, fucking me. Lovely.

"Could you try to trust us for half a second?" Scott said incredulously.

Stiles pulled himself forward to put in his two cents. "Yeah! All of us!"

The look Derek gave him in return, could've peeled paint.

"Or just them." Stiles rectified. "I'll be back here."

"Trust me, it's just Scott." I snickered half-heartedly. I was feeling pretty passive aggressive. Not my best quality.

Maybe it was though, because Derek cast me an almost hurt glance before spilling the beans, finally. "The last time I talked to my sister she was close to figuring something out; she found two things. The first was a guy named Harris."

"Our _Chemistry _teacher?" Stiles interjected, again.

_Harris? Why does that sound sort of familiar?_

Rewind to the thousands of times I've had to stop by to fix Stiles' jeep or Melissa McCall's car and either of the dunderheads were present and they've complained about their tyrannical Chemistry teacher. A true douche-canoe to say the least, but never rubbed me as the type to aide a raging werewolf lunatic. Nor did he seem like the type to give a helping hand to the werewolf hunters frolicking through the forest.

"Why him?" Scott questioned, bringing me out of my odd musings.

"I-I don't know yet." Derek barked in frustration.

"Well what's the second?" The lovable dolt continued.

Derek put his hand in his pocket, pulling out some sort of drawing. "Some kind of symbol."

In my rearview mirror I noticed Scott making an almost pained expression, so I asked, "Hey, you okay?"

"He knows the symbol." Derek figured out. "He's seen it before. Do you know what this is?"

Scott let out a labored sigh. "I've seen it on a necklace. Allison's necklace."

"Wait –" I couldn't help but ask. "Why would Allison have –"

"You haven't told her?" Stiles questioned. "Don't you think she deserves to know about –"

"It's not really any of your goddamn business, is it!" Derek shouted back. "You two are going home. Like, _now_."

I took that as a very clear message to get the kiddies home to their respective parent. It only took a few minutes, Beacon Hills isn't a large town and they live relatively close to one another. Once that was all finished, I drove down the road a ways and Derek did not say so much as a peep to me, so I decided to break the ice a little.

"Where am I taking you this evening?" I asked honestly, avoiding the elephant in the room. "My place, Stiles' place, your place, take your pick."

"Your place." He replied almost instantly before adding, "If that's – if it's okay with you."

I shrugged, sort of indifferent at that point. "I guess it's fine. But you're not staying in my bed tonight."

"Look, Brooke –"

"You don't have to say anything." I interrupted, waving him off. "It's not a big deal, I should've known better."

"Brooke, will you just –"

I sighed, interrupting him again. "Okay, if you really want to talk this over, can we at least wait until we're not stuck in a car together? Because I'd really appreciate that."

Of course, Derek never really likes being told what to do, but he caved. Just this once. So we continued on in a very brief silence. I had an itch to turn on the radio to listen to _something_, so eventually I rolled down the window and started playing some Syd Matters. Thank you Bluetooth radio for distracting me from the shit transpiring around me.

When we finally got back to my place, I got out very sluggishly, moving to pull out my keys when Derek was in front of me in a flash. His eyes, they actually look a bit hurt. He reached out for my hand but I pulled it away, we needed to clear the air first before I decided to fall back into any sort of emotional attachment with the fellow.

"Hold on." I halfway commanded, backing up until my back was pressed up against his car. "I need to know a few things first before we start acting like that again."

Reluctantly, he nodded, dropping his hands and shoving them in his pockets.

"Derek –" I started, not really knowing how to word my first of many questions. "What – what _are _we, exactly. I know we fool around, and that's fun, but lately it's been a bit – _more _than that. I just – I really need to get some clarity on the subject. I mean, if we're just wolves with benefits, I'm more than happy with that. If that's the case though, this affection crap needs to stop right now, I mean –"

Whatever rant I was going on about was silenced when Derek took my chin in his hand and kissed me gently on the lips. I felt his addicting warmth seep into me, a promise like none I'd ever heard before. There was something – powerful in that small action, something beyond comprehension. It's like every question I'd had – they were instantly answered.

When he pulled away, I couldn't help but stare into those eerie green eyes of his, telling me things that – that I couldn't hear, things I was able to sense in every fiber of my being. Derek – he'd protect me. Protect me from anything that came my way, he'd fight through countless enemies to get to me, he'd – he'd do anything for me. And that felt absolutely terrifying.

"Why?" I whispered, ducking my head down and running a hand through my hair. "Why me? Of all the people in this freaking town? On this freaking planet? I'm just some grease monkey you met at a gas station!"

He took a step closer, putting his hands on my waist and capturing my complete attention. Again, he kissed me, and again more feelings and emotions seeped right into my soul. God, I didn't want to, but I started to cry. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him harder, felt him deeper, became addicted to him in one fell swoop. As he pulled me into his arms, I had no more questions. He had already told me everything I needed to know.

_There is only you._

A daunting phrase, to say the least, but maybe I was ready for that sort of commitment again. And maybe, just maybe, that was the scariest thing of all.

* * *

**Author's Note: Aloha! Here I am, back once more, another chapter, some more fluff, and practically ripped directly from A Grease Monkey's Tale. Yikes, just reworked it so Brooke wasn't such an annoying little thing. More to come, I'm sure. Really getting into the relationship this time around, and absolutely loving it! Reviews are my fav, just so you know. Also, once upon a time, their pairing was affectionately known as Dekelyn (Pronounced Declan), after all, her first name is Brooklyn! Ta!**


	21. Chapter Twenty-One: Revelations

**Monkey Meets Wolf**

**Chapter Twenty-One: Revelations**

* * *

_Yes, revelations, and no, not the shitty Assassin's Creed game, I actually enjoyed this epiphany_

* * *

That night – Derek and I didn't really fuck like crazy like we usually do. That was honestly probably the most passionate and intense bonk I've ever experienced. It was truly the first time I had "made love" since James died, and I sorely missed it. Missed the passion, the pure love and adoration, and, honestly, Derek was the last person I expected it from.

I woke up the next day, his arms wrapped tight around me, his warmth enveloping me as it always did, and I couldn't've been happier in that exact moment. Being careful not to wake him, I rolled over and nuzzled into his chest, glad for the few moments we had before everything came crashing down on us again. Speaking from experience, when you think you've found the love of your life and then he's suddenly taken from you, you become doubtful that you'll ever love like that again.

Maybe – maybe I was on my way there.

Who would've thought, right? Why would anyone with any common decency fall for a brooding asshole like Derek Hale? Sure, he's lickably sexy and undeniably ripped, but looks can only carry a relationship so far. So, maybe I'm a masochist. Developing feelings for a guy who hates more than he breathes. Whoops, my bad. Maybe I should get some common decency.

Thinking back to last night, I remembered something a bit odd, something I'd definitely bring up to my multiple-night-stand when he woke up. The fact that I could half hear his thoughts was – odd, to say the least. Come to think of it, the only other time that happened was when the Alpha was whispering in my head. I was pretty sure the sleazy monster was able to do that only because he'd bitten me, and I was part of his pack.

Derek though? He and I were – not connected like that. He's a werewolf, I'm a werewolf, sure, but I can't hear Scott's thoughts and he's in the same precarious life state as we are. Several options rolled through my head, magical werewolf telepathy being one of them, and Derek being the grand wielder of those powers. My other ideas involved radioactive spiders and other such things so I'll keep those to myself, because I'm pretty sure _all _of my theories are way off the mark.

Suddenly, Derek started to fidget. He rolled back onto his back and removed one arm from me to rub his eyes and yawn. I still stayed cuddled up to him because I was feeling that afterglow real hard. He squeezed me tighter to his side briefly before relaxing his arm and looking down at me.

"How'd you sleep?" I asked innocently, drawing patterns on his forearm.

He chuckled a bit. "I slept fine, thanks for asking. What are you doing over there."

"Shut up, I'm swimming in pheromones, leave me be." I protested, pursing my lips.

"Is that all?" He continued, his amusement clear in his tone.

I sat up, slapping him lightly on the chest. "Where the hell did this playful side come from? For the longest time you've been frowns and bad moods, what has gotten into you?"

He shrugged, avoiding the question entirely.

I couldn't help but laugh. "No way are you shrugging your way out of this one. I'm going to get to the bottom of this pickle barrel."

"Pickle barrel?" He smirked. "Where do you come up with this crap?"

I rolled my eyes and pulled Derek's jacket on to keep myself warm. "From the crap that's residing in my head. Now, serious talk time, what the hell was that last night?"

"What was what?" He disregarded, playing dumb.

And doing a very poor job at it.

"You know what I'm talking about, that little voice in my head last night that sounded a lot like you!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in the air. "It was so weird, like you were taking a nice leisurely scroll over my brain!"

Finally, Derek sighed and sat up, giving in to my questioning. "You really want to know?"

I laughed. "Of course I want to know, it was sort of weird!"

"You said you don't want to know about the kissing thing." He decided to bring up.

Confused, I tilted my head to the side. "They're related?"

He nodded, putting a hand behind his head. "Yeah. A lot."

I returned the gesture, trying to keep a level head. "Cool, cool. I guess that means it's about time for me to learn about that too. I'm a big girl, I can handle it."

"You're something, alright." He _probably _tried to mutter under his breath. He failed miserably.

"Oh hush." I protested. "Just – just start explaining."

Derek, he sighed for the umpteenth time, and began his tale of woe. "There's this – thing. Something that werewolves sometimes do to become more powerful. It's a bond that's both spiritual and physical –"

"This is getting pretty trippy." I interceded just a little. I'm no good with serious talks.

There was suddenly a hand over my mouth. "It's called mating."

Sort of glad he literally shut my trap for me, because I just started laughing like crazy as I pulled his hand away. "Wait, what?"

"Mating." He reiterated. "It's obviously –"

"Werewolves fucking like rabbits?" I chuckled. "We've been doing that for a while Derek, surely we've –"

He put his hand over my mouth again, effectively shutting me up. "Interrupt me again and I won't tell you anything."

I groaned loudly through his big meaty paws, but I obviously relented. The need to know about this whole deal was far more important than the need to insert my sarcastic comments after every word. Seems like this conversation was actually plenty overdue, I just happen to be a big wuss who likes to run away from her problems. My bad.

Probably somewhat reluctant of my compliance, Derek removed his hand and looked at me expectantly. "Do we have a deal?"

"Yes." I conceded. "No more blundering interruptions from one moronic grease monkey."

Of course, that didn't satisfy him.

"I, Brooke-Lynn Sophia Winston Summers, solemnly swear that _I _am up to no good, but will keep my ungodly lopsided mouth shut for the duration of this discussion." I swore with my hand crossed over my heart. "There, happy?"

He smirked. "Never.

"Now, to mate with a werewolf is to essentially bind your soul to another. A mated werewolf's strength is amplified, so is their healing, senses, endurance, everything. Mating prevents you from having sexual or romantic feelings for another, it's pretty much a lifelong thing. So, obviously, only werewolves who are in love make that pact. Unless – unless it's for the power. Then, it's usually forced on a Beta by their Alpha. It's – usually not consensual."

"Like what the Alpha's trying to pull on me." I mumbled. It was more like – a horrifying realization that spilled from my lips.

Then, completely uncharacteristically, Derek reached over and took my hand in his. "I will _never _let him get his hands on you. Especially not like that."

_That is – incredibly sweet. _"Thank you, Derek. I appreciate that. Sorry for interrupting you."

He smirked sadly. "I'll let it slide."

"My oh my, Derek Hale." I teased, falling back into his side. "You're goin' soft on me."

You could practically hear him roll his eyes. "You wish."

I giggled, glad to be on his good side, but then I stopped. "Wait, what's this have to do with us?"

With that, we got back down to business. To defeat – the _Huns_.

"There's – another piece of it." He admitted quite reluctantly. "The connection isn't just physical, like I said, spiritual. _Mental_. You can practically hear each other's thoughts, sense their pain, actually _feel _where they are."

_Hold the phone. _"That's – that's you and me down to a T. But we haven't done the – haven't actually –"

"That's where it gets – complicated." He lamented.

"I don't like how that sounds." I admitted without stopping to think whether or not I should.

He cast me a side glance. "There's a level _beyond_ mating. One that's – how do I explain this."

"How about you just start going, pretend I'm not here, and hope I don't freak out?" I asked with a shrug of the shoulders. "Because you're making is sound like I'm going to freak out."

"You always freak out." He said while shaking his head.

"Do not!" I protested loudly. "Only when I get turned into a werewolf against my will!"

He chuckled just before his face fell. "True mates. That's the level _beyond _mating."

"What's that entail, exactly?" I asked innocently.

"A true mate is someone a werewolf is absolutely meant to be with. Even without mating they have the same sort of connections, the enhanced strength just by being near them, healing, endurance, senses, etcetera. But – honestly, it's supposed to be so rare that most werewolves don't even believe in it anymore. Including myself. My mother told me about it when I was younger, it sounds like a fairytale still."

I looked up at him. "What made you change your mind on it?"

Now, I'm going to tell you something that you're probably not going to believe. Derek, big tough emotionless Derek, he, hand to God, blushed up a freaking storm. It was – it was absolutely adorable. His cheeks got all pink and he looked away and I just – I wish I took a picture because honestly no one believes me when I tell them. It's way too far-fetched. Of course, with the next bit of news, I was doing pretty much the same damn thing.

"You." He muttered as he stared intently out the window. "I'm pretty sure that – are you going to make me say it? Because I don't think –"

Impulsively, I sat up quickly and covered his mouth with both of my hands. "Please – please don't. I don't think I can handle that."

With my head bowed and my hair dangling in my face, I desperately hid the fact that my face was warm like his chest and red as the devil's butthole. Of course, being "true mates", or whatever Derek was going on about, he just pulled my hands off his mouth and tilted my chin up. Unbeknownst to me, I was tearing up like crazy. There was something – nostalgic about this feeling.

I'm going to say it, I was falling in love. Maybe already in love – well, at least in the early stages of it. Derek, he used his thumb to wipe away the wetness dripping down my face, then he leaned in and kissed me gently, pressing his forehead against mine and practically washing away any bad feeling I've ever had. This – true mate crap, with Derek Hale, it was a lot to wrap my head around. But – I knew I could handle it. As long as I had him, everything would be okay.

* * *

**Author's Note: Slight delay, here we are, this is so gross and fluffy and romancey and - yeah, all that. Anyways, for anyone still confused on the whole hunter named "Jim" where Chris Argent would be, Brooke is not apart of the main werewolf drama, running from hunters or anything like that, so she actually does not know about any of the hunters, who they are, or what their names are. She's actually not even going to meet Chris Argent before the end of the season, and therefore she's given him her own name. That is all! Winding down to the end people, let's get to a dead Alpha and a happy Brooke!**


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